


Honorary Remnant

by Blueflame91, RedPen



Series: Honorary Remnant [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Gen, other characters to be tagged as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 127,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueflame91/pseuds/Blueflame91, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPen/pseuds/RedPen
Summary: Two and a half years after her supposed death, Chiaki Nanami awakens from a coma into a twisted and unfamiliar world.  Her friends have kickstarted the apocalypse, destroying everything - even their own bodies and minds - as they chase the glorious high of Despair.As their class rep, it’s Chiaki’s duty to stop them.  Her plan is simple.  One by one, she’s going to confront the Remnants of Despair.  And she’s going to save them, or die trying.
Series: Honorary Remnant [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076435
Comments: 76
Kudos: 154





	1. Fuyuhiko

**Author's Note:**

> **A note on the formatting of this fic:** This story started out elsewhere on the internet as a paragraph-by-paragraph roleplay. About 300 pages into it, we realized that we were creating a really cool story, and that other people might enjoy reading along.
> 
> The roleplay is presented here mostly unedited, in its original paragraph-by-paragraph format, with line breaks between each reply so that all the switching around between character perspectives doesn’t get confusing. We're breaking it into chapters at somewhat arbitrary points, whenever we think "yeah, that's probably a long enough wordcount." Currently, the entire story sits at well over a thousand pages, and it's still getting longer, so it'll take us a while to catch up on AO3. It’s weirdly paced and self-indulgent and honestly a whole lot of fun.
> 
> In this chapter, Chiaki was played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko and Peko were played by RedPen.

Chiaki sat on the bed in her cell, playing a handheld game and waiting patiently, as she had all week, for someone - _anyone_ \- to make an appearance.

Her basement cell was tiny, a concrete-floored, cramped space, made smaller by a rusted metal bedframe and mattress that had seen better days. It obviously hadn’t been built as a prison cell. There were no bars, just a sturdy oak door locked from the outside, and a narrow window up near the ceiling, too small to crawl through. She’d grown intimately familiar with this room over the past week, as well as the short stretch of hallway outside that led to the bathroom, which she was guided down a few times a day for basic necessitates by an ever-rotating roster of scarred and scary looking men in suits.

She knew all their names by now, of course. The Chiaki Nanami who’d first been admitted to Hope’s Peak might have been a quiet and withdrawn little wallflower, but _Chiaki Nanami: class rep_ was a superstar speedrunner when it came to using video games to make friends. By the second day of rambling at her guards through the door about Pokemon, they’d actually started talking back. On the third day, during her routine morning walk to the bathroom, one of them slipped a GameGirl into her hand, and they’d been smuggling in electronic contraband for her ever since. Some of them had also admitted to playing Pokemon. Okamoto was working on locating a link cable so she could battle him.

They were still there to make sure she “behaved herself,” but they amended it with “the boss’s words, not mine,” and sounded a little apologetic about it, which she thought was probably a friendship milestone of some sort.

But today there were footsteps, growing steadily nearer over the sound of her game, and it didn’t sound like one of her guards. Quick and sharp, probably somebody in a hurry, or Fuyuhiko trying to keep up with his men or Peko. Chiaki knew the feeling -- being the short one was never fun if you had to travel in groups. However, if it was Fuyuhiko coming, she had to hide her GameGirl. She wasn’t technically supposed to have it. She paused the game and placed the handheld under her mattress with the rest of her games and her charger before sitting expectantly atop the bed and facing the door, nervous and excited.

She’d only seen Fuyuhiko once, when she was captured in the act of breaking into his house a week ago, and he hadn’t even spoken to her then. He’d just given her a cold look and told his men to toss her in a cell. Maybe now he was finally ready to talk.

\------------------

One week. He’d put this off long enough.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu gestured for Peko to open the door to the makeshift basement cell, because he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted himself not to slam it. Had to look calm and professional about this, no matter whose name the bitch was claiming. Peko shot him a faintly worried look as the door swung open, but it was too late to comment. He was already striding inside.

The girl sitting on the ragged mattress across from him certainly _looked_ like Chiaki Nanami. Fuyuhiko’s chest constricted with an absolute mess of complicated feelings about that; rage and grief and guilt and helplessness and blame and Despair, and he couldn’t keep his face from twisting into a scowl at the sight of her. It couldn’t really be her, of course. He’d watched Chiaki die, executed in a rigged death game while he sat and watched and did nothing. The person in front of him was older. The right face, the right posture, but people could look alike, even without masks or makeup, and who was to say his memories were all that accurate anymore? It had been a long time.

“What the fuck,” he said, trying to keep his voice level, and utterly failing. “What the FUCK are you trying to pull, walking in here pretending to be Chiaki FUCKIN’ Nanami?”

Tense at his side, Peko’s eyes flickered between them.

\------------------

Chiaki’s expression brightened when Fuyuhiko walked into the room with Peko, about to give a friendly greeting before she noticed the expression on her classmates’ faces. Peko looked tense -- well, more tense than usual. She was eyeing Chiaki and Fuyuhiko with nervousness, which brought Chiaki’s attention to the boy’s -- _no_ , man, _he’s leveled up since high school_ \-- face, and the prominent look of anger on it. She blinked, her head instinctively tilting to the side, her brows furrowing in concern. Was something wrong? She’d been as meek and cooperative a prisoner as possible, but maybe she had done something to make him upset -- he still seemed to have a pretty short fuse, based on what everyone else had been telling her since she arrived here.

However, the last thing she had expected to hear was that he didn’t think she was herself.

Chiaki blinked before puffing her cheeks out in a prominent pout, upset that he wouldn’t believe her. Sure, she knew that the last time they all saw her was… well, that didn’t mean she couldn’t be alive, right? ...probably.

“I’m not pretending,” she said, trying to make her meek voice sound as stern as she possibly could. “I _am_ Chiaki.”

\------------------

He ignored her pouty little insistence. “Who sent you? The Future Foundation? Gotta give them credit, motherfuckers really found an impressive body double. Or was it one of the other Remnants? ‘Cause that’s a pretty _sick goddamn prank_ even by our standards.”

He clenched his fists, willing himself to be professional, willing the fury inside him not to boil over.

“And if I were you, I’d be real fuckin’ honest about this, ‘Chiaki’.” He gagged on the name. “‘Cause there’s an easy way and a hard way this could go. Either way, I’m gonna get the information I want outta you, but _god_ please give me an excuse to use the hard way.”

\------------------

Chiaki’s pout became more pronounced. She was aware that it was pretty difficult to believe that she was alive. Fuyuhiko was not the first of her classmates she’d run into. She still wasn’t certain if she’d convinced Teruteru, though she hadn’t exactly had a chance to sit down and talk with him. Mostly, she’d spent that interaction running away from him and his butcher knife, his screams of “I WON’T BELIEVE IT” ringing behind her. She’d gotten out of that by distracting him in ways she’d rather not talk about. To anyone. Ever.

Kazuichi had been much more… eager about it. “She’s like, a really detailed robot, right?” And after much invasive poking and prodding: “No that’s… that’s skin. That’s definitely human skin. Is that why you saved the body? Izuru, buddy, did you skin her body and put the skin on a robot? Can I take her apart and see what makes her tick? Just a little? Man, _‘cmon._ ”

Nobody was trying to dismember her yet, so she had to keep reminding herself that by comparison, this conversation with Fuyuhiko was going really well.

“No one sent me,” she insisted. “I got hurt really bad, but I got better! I was just… asleep for a really long time.” Chiaki shuffled back, her brows furrowed in frustration, fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves. She wasn’t really good with confrontation like this unless it was in a video game; she never gave off any sort of ‘agro’ vibe either. She wished she could get her GameGirl out from underneath her mattress, and bury herself in her games. She wished she could reload her life’s save file and start from where she had left off.

But she couldn’t. Real life didn’t work that way.

Chiaki looked up at a raging Ultimate Yakuza and a fretting Ultimate Swordswoman, giving them both a soft, sad smile. “I know it’s been a long time, but… I’m glad to be back. It’s good to see you again.”

\------------------

Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm and professional. Fuyuhiko jabbed an accusatory finger at her. “Alright, yeah, let’s tackle that. Problem fuckin’ one with that story: Chiaki Nanami wasn’t _asleep_ , she wasn’t in a fucking _coma_ , she was stabbed through all her vital organs and then she bled out on the floor.”

He stepped forward, prodded her in the chest. Peko, just behind him, somehow started radiating even more tension, but did nothing to stop him.

“Problem two, I really, _really_ doubt she’d look at this shitshow of a world we’ve built in her absence and just say, ‘hey hey Fuyuhiko, it’s so good to see you again, we should catch up,’ on account of Chiaki Nanami was a decent human being. So tell me your REAL NAME, who sent you, and what’s your FUCKIN’ ANGLE.”

\------------------

Chiaki flinched at Fuyuhiko’s accusation -- she still had a long way to go socially, and it seemed that being... _nice_ about her absence wasn’t the right way to go. _Of course_ she didn’t like the world as it was, and _of course_ she wanted to fix it. However, the thing that took priority over that, and over everything else, was her classmates -- her friends. They were… sick? No, that wasn’t right. They were in Despair. They were called the Remnants of Despair, after all. 

\------------------

“Young master,” Peko began, her voice little more than a hoarse breath of air, a hesitant and almost silent protest. (He was the master now, but the title had stuck, somehow, between them. A term of endearment, maybe. He'd never corrected her on it.) “Maybe we should consider that she’s really-”

“Did I fuckin’ order you to talk?” he growled, not turning around to look at her, and Peko stiffened, snapped her mouth shut.

\------------------

Chiaki was about to try again when, against all odds, Peko tried to defend her. Chiaki felt a small weight lift off of her shoulders, feeling a sudden sense of comradery with the woman behind the Ultimate Yakuza. Peko had visited her cell occasionally, ostensibly doing rounds to oversee the guards, but she hadn’t been shy about stopping at Chiaki’s door to talk for a bit. The two of them had gotten slightly closer within the past week, able to actually catch up. Chiaki wasn’t one hundred percent sure Peko _entirely_ believed her, but she had shown Peko her scars already -- Peko was following her lead for now.

As suddenly as Peko began speaking however, she was silenced by Fuyuhiko. Peko’s mouth snapped shut, fear evident on her face. 

Suddenly, Nice Friend Chiaki Nanami was replaced with Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu’s Class Rep, the tension she felt morphing into disappointment and anger.

“Don’t talk to Peko that way.” Chiaki scolded, suddenly not caring if Fuyuhiko got mad or even _believed_ her anymore. She pushed his finger off of her chest with an unintentional force, pointing her own finger at his face to make him look at her. “She’s your friend, and your classmate; you shouldn’t be so agro with her. I’m your Class Representative, so I understand you being upset with me for not stopping you sooner, but Peko didn’t do anything wrong.”

Chiaki moved so that she was in between Fuyuhiko and Peko, standing defensively between the two of them and giving the Yakuza the most prominent pout she could muster before finishing her speech with a simple request: “So leave her alone. It’s me you’re mad at, isn’t it?” Her face was determined now; protecting her classmates and friends would always, _always_ be her first priority, no matter the cost. “So let’s talk about it. That’s how friends are supposed to resolve fights… I think.” 

\------------------

Fuyuhiko’s brain stalled out for a moment. She didn’t just look like Chiaki Nanami. For a moment, she’d talked like her, acted like her, stood up for what she thought was right in a way that seemed so very _herself_ that he’d almost believed it.

“How about you stay the hell outta things between me and Peko?” he rallied, finally. Some of his anger had fizzled out. She’d always had a way of doing that. “Like you even know anything. Even if you ARE Chiaki, you weren’t even here.”

What was he saying? She wasn’t Chiaki! _Peko believes it._ Peko was an idiot, a brainless tool who couldn’t think for herself. Peko’s eyes were glued to the Chiaki lookalike as she stood defiantly between them. _Okay, but Peko believes it._

\------------------

Chiaki watched cautiously as Fuyuhiko deflated a little bit, looking between her and Peko. She sulked a little at being told to mind her own business. “Not if you're going to pick on her,” she said curtly, not budging physically or morally.

\------------------

“You wanna talk? Fine, start talking! If you insist you’re her, then prove you’re her, yeah?”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked in response to Fuyuhiko’s sudden change of heart. She thought for a moment, her brows furrowing. “...how?”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu lost twenty seven straight matches of Super Smash Brothers.

Should have banned the damn game when he had the chance, really. Tracked down every last copy and burned them. Video games were a sore subject for all of them; nobody would have batted an eye at it if he’d scoured the world of them. It had just never occurred to him to make it a priority.

Definitely should have made it a priority.

Fuyuhiko threw his controller at the projector screen they’d had Peko rig up in the cramped space of Chiaki’s little cell. Peko, for her part, was making an admirable effort of standing guard in the doorway and pretending she wasn’t watching this happen. “You’re _fucking cheating.”_

\------------------

Chiaki had been utterly absorbed into the game. Fuyuhiko had decided the rules beforehand; no items or mains, on the Final Destination stage. Chiaki chose Meta Knight (who was almost as cute as Kirby) and went to town. 

No holds barred. It was an all out massacre. It didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko to get angry, though Chiaki was proud of the fact that he didn’t give up until much later. Granted, he was a leader, so someone like him wouldn’t give in so easily.

However, towards the beginning of round 28, Fuyuhiko threw his controller. Chiaki blinked and tilted her head, confused. “I’m following all of the rules you gave me though. There aren’t a lot of cheat codes in Super Smash Brothers, Fuyuhiko. Do you want to play your main instead? If you want, I can let you win, but I don’t think that’d be very fun.”

\------------------

“The FUCK am I begging for a _handout_ , Chiaki. I’m not asking you to let me win, I’m ordering you to-” (stop being so much goddamn better at this than I am, because fuckin’ Peko Pekoyama is silently laughing her ass of over there and I am THE HEAD OF THE YAKUZA, GOD DAMMIT) he did not say. “-to stop. Fuckin’ cheating.”

Fuyuhiko’s shoulders sagged slightly as he realized that he wasn’t really angry. Not anymore, not the burning rage that had been consuming him from the inside out when he’d entered her cell. Chiaki was looking up at him with those wide, searching eyes, like she was trying to puzzle him out.

“Shit, whatever. Don’t let me win. It wouldn’t be fun.”

He sat down heavily on the ragged, thin little mattress of the bed they’d provided her with, not bothering to retrieve his controller. His hands fidgeted against the fabric, found moth-eaten holes and picked at them idly. No, he wasn’t angry, but there was a strange fog in his brain, with her eyes on him like that. (Picking at the holes in him - the ragged, worn-thin thing she wasn’t supposed to ever see, because she was dead and it had never, _never_ mattered what she would have thought about any of it. Fuck.)

\------------------

Chiaki blinked and righted her head. Fuyuhiko moved away from the T.V., sitting on her bed and fidgeting with her blanket, and Chiaki furrowed her brows. Sure, this entire situation was odd, but… Fuyuhiko seemed sad, all of the sudden. “Fuyuhiko?”

\------------------

“You got, like… scars?” he said at last, his voice as ragged as the rest of him, his gaze not quite meeting hers. He heard Peko shift slightly, at the door. Felt her amusement sublimate, her attention and concern focus suddenly and hotly on him. “After… you know. How fucked up are you?”

\------------------

Chiaki grew silent. She did have scars. She’d gone through Junko’s maze and came out on top… of spikes. It was probably to be expected. But… aside from Hajime, who’d treated her comatose body for several years, and Peko, who she had only shown a week ago to prove her identity, she hadn’t really shown anyone. Actually, those two were the _only_ people had seen the scars so far.

“I do.” She raised her skirt slightly, to reveal one of two scars from a spear going directly through her leg. “I would show you more of them, but…” Her face turned pink, not really wanting to relive the situation with Teruteru. “Most of them are under my clothes, and that probably isn’t a good idea, since I have to provide a good example as your Class Rep.”

\------------------

He probably shouldn’t be staring at a girl’s thigh like that, but _shit._ He was no Ultimate Nurse, but Fuyuhiko knew his way around scarring. Gunshots, stab wounds, back alley brawls and clandestine disagreements that couldn’t wind up in a hospital or there’d be uncomfortable questions. The mark on Chiaki’s leg was deceptively small, a little jagged around the edges from where her skin had been stitched back together, the scar tissue gone silver-white with age. He realized his hand had moved forward as if to touch it, and snatched it back hurriedly, because that was a _girl’s thigh._

“Shit,” he said, because what else could you say? “Shit, Chiaki.”

And then, quieter, because he’d decided this around match five of Super Smash Brothers and was only just now realizing he’d made the decision: “Shit. _Chiaki.”_

\------------------

Chiaki blinked as Fuyuhiko flustered for a moment, before he seemed to realize the truth that she had been telling all along. She gave him a small, sad smile, nodding in agreement. 

“Yep.” She responded. She pulled her skirt back down to cover her scar, brushing the wrinkles out of it while continuing. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to come see you. I missed everyone so much."

Chiaki felt tears begin to sting the corners of her eyes, and she quickly wiped them so Peko and Fuyuhiko didn’t see. “I really… I’m really sorry I…” A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to talk for a moment. With Kazuichi and Teruteru, she hadn’t gotten a proper opportunity to talk about the hell Junko Enoshima put her through, but… “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you in time. It must have been really hard while I was gone. I’m sorry.”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko felt himself grinding his teeth at the sudden shakiness in her voice. “S… shut up. The fuck is that supposed to mean, you’re sorry you weren’t in time? That’s my line, you know? I’m the one who-”

The memories of it were flooding back, sharp as the day she’d died. (Hadn’t died, never died.) She’d been the one in danger. They’d been the rescue party. They’d been the ones who were too late, who’d fucked it up, who hadn’t gotten to her before she’d been shoved bodily into that death maze-

( _-Despair_ , piercing, cold, metallic against his tongue, a ringing in his ears, brain flooding with ~~pain~~ pleasure, Her right eye trying to roll back suddenly in his head as if She was spasming with laughter-)

Fuyuhiko, too, laughed. An abrupt, wry bark of laughter that nearly bent him over double. “HAH! What the hell? This whole time, you thought it was your fault? You thought the whole goddamn world broke for you?” He clapped her on the shoulder. (Too rough, squeezing her too tightly, she’s fragile, _stop_ , she’s _fragile_.) His gaze wandered upward shakily to Peko, who was still standing flat-faced in the doorway, silently watching this unfold. (Peko wouldn’t lift a finger if I slit Chiaki’s throat,) came the wandering thought, and that brought another raw gasp of laughter.

( _-Despair_ , a roaring tide in his head, drowning out the keening plea of _she can’t see this she doesn’t deserve this she believed we were so much_ better-)

“Yeah, actually. Now that I think about it. It _was_ your fault.”

\------------------

Chiaki watched the scene unfold as Fuyuhiko slowly became unhinged. She had seen Teruteru in his full, unbridled Despair, but… seeing Fuyuhiko like this, able to fall into this at the drop of a hat due to the pain of what he went through for her sake…

She didn’t stop her tears this time. Chiaki moved under the arm that gripped her shoulder and hugged him tightly, guilt and shame and anger that she had been holding back for everyone else’s sake finally coming to the surface. 

“I’m sorry.” She balled her hands into fists, clenching the back of his shirt. “It _is_ my fault, for not helping you and being tricked as easily as I was. You…” Chiaki let Fuyuhiko go and looked back to Peko, giving her a sad smile. “You both deserved someone less naive than me to lead the class. But I promise I’ll make it up to you however I can. So…” Chiaki turned back to Fuyuhiko, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a gentle squeeze of her own. “So don’t give up yet, okay? There’s a lot we can do from here on out, together. ...I think.”

\------------------

( _-Despair_ , stuttering, static-ing out, turning to white noise, leaving his head a void as her arms squeezed him tightly and his brain fumbled to rewire itself to process the emotions behind _that-_ )

There was a damp spot on his suit where her face was pressed into it, because Chiaki Nanami was crying. And while receiving hugs from a five foot two little nothing slip of a girl did not in any way slot neatly into the reputation of a mob boss he so carefully cultivated, Fuyuhiko did not give a crap, because Chiaki Nanami was _crying._

But she pulled away before he’d fully steeled himself to hug her back, and then it was just her hand on his shoulder - firm, encouraging, decidedly more dignified - as she had the audacity to smile at him like there weren’t tears streaking down her face.

( _-Despair_ , wanting to rise up and devour her, devour everything, but he was very, very good at shoving that into the back of the proverbial closet and wedging the door shut, because when you ran the mafia you couldn’t just go galavanting off to burn the world.) Fuyuhiko squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forced back that urge to proliferate his own poison. The reminder of her apparently-not-death had taken him by surprise, jabbed at him in his most vulnerable points when he’d been least ready to defend against it, but he had a handle on it now.)

Her hand squeezed his shoulder, and he put his own hand on top of her fingers and returned the gesture. (Gently. She’s more scars than skin.)

“No… Ah, hell. What I was trying to say was, it wasn’t on you.” He shot Peko a “help me out here” look.

“What the young master means,” Peko chimed in, slowly, as if testing the waters, “is that we all rather feel that _we_ are the ones who’ve failed _you.”_

“So there’s nothing to make up for,” Fuyuhiko said gruffly, his hand still on Chiaki’s. “And you’re gonna cut that crap right now. Maybe nobody filled you in, but we’ve gotta deal with Nagito enough that self-deprecating bullshit has long since been officially banned in this house.”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko slowly moved his hand to cover hers, and Chiaki smiled. She was able to help here, at least. He hadn’t lost himself to Despair for hours, the way she’d seen it happen to Kazuichi and Teruteru. If she could do this here… she could do it again. Her mood lifted as he floundered through what he had initially wanted to say before his Despair started calling the shots, Peko chiming in helpfully. However, at the mention of self-deprecation not being allowed in the house, Chiaki let out a small laugh. 

“That sounds like Nagito.” She said, using the sleeve on her free hand to wipe her leftover tears. “I wish he would be more confident in himself.” She thought about how strong he was facing off against Junko Enoshima practically all on his own. “Nagito is… stronger than he thinks. Probably. Granted, I think that about all of my classmates, so I guess it’s not much of a surprise to hear that coming from me.”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko rolled his eye and pulled his hand away at last, but it was with a certain fondness. “You see this, Peko? She has not changed one fuckin’ iota.” Hell, he probably could have skipped the video games altogether; only the real Chiaki could sit there and praise Nagito. He leaned back casually on the narrow little bed until his back hit the wall, trying through sheer body language to force the tense, emotional moment to disperse.

“Chiaki Nanami. _Chiaki Nanami._ Shit, what hole did you crawl out of? We’ve gotta get you a better bed.” He considered. “Actually screw the bed. We’ve got actual guest rooms, we don’t have to keep you locked in the basement.” There was no question in his mind that she was staying for the foreseeable future. It was a dangerous world out there, and no way was he letting her walk back out into it.

\------------------

Chiaki blinked and tilted her head, pausing and thinking a moment. 

“Well, I don't really know where I was the entire time, but I was in some kind of… hospital room? ...In the tunnels under Hope’s Peak when I woke up.” Her cheeks puffed out as her brain formed combo breakers leading to the obvious conclusion. “Hajime moved me there to keep me safe while I was asleep. Probably.” He was the one who helped her get better, so that made the most sense. 

Since he’d mentioned the bed, Chiaki perked up a bit. “That'd be good, though. My bed was starting to get lumpy.” Granted, that was because she was hiding all of her games and handheld consoles underneath it, but Fuyuhiko didn't need to know that his gang had already got the jump on spoiling Chiaki rotten. Instead, she smiled at Fuyuhiko again -- a real one this time, no sadness behind it at all. “Thank you.”

\------------------

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me like it’s some big thing. Just pack your stuff up and- you got stuff? Well, if you’ve got stuff, put it in a pile or something, I’ll have somebody move it.”

The type of mind with the talent to run a successful crime syndicate was surprisingly detail-oriented. Fuyuhiko was already ticking off mental checkboxes. There was a room on the third floor of his opulent headquarters that would be ideal. He’d have to get it aired out, maybe check under the bed for corpses. (Easy to leave your toys lying around in a big place like this.) He’d also have to inform the rest of the Family where she stood, come to think of it. Lay down some ground rules on the “nobody touches Chiaki” front. Should he assign her a bodyguard or something? No, probably better to just tell the guys on perimeter duty not to let her leave. She’d be safe as long as she stayed close. Did she have changes of clothes? He’d have to get her some clean clothes, and-

“Wait, who the hell is Hajime?”

\------------------

"Oh.” Chiaki deflated a bit -- she had forgotten that Fuyuhiko and the rest of her class didn’t have a chance to meet Hajime before everything happened. (Well, they'd _sort of_ never met him. She'd kinda gleaned from Hajime that it was Complicated.) “Hajime is a good friend of mine. I met him the day Miss Yukizome became our teacher; we used to play video games together after school. You guys never met him, though. He was a reserve course student, so he wasn’t allowed in the main course building.” Chiaki’s cheeks puffed out with indignance. “I thought that rule was too agro towards the reserve course students. I didn’t like it.”

\------------------

“Yeah. It was a shitty rule. Kept a lot of good people outta the program.” Fuyuhiko shrugged. “Reserve course, huh? You had friends in the fuckin’ Parade?” Well, of course she did. Chiaki was the type who could make friends anywhere. “Didn’t think any of them survived the whole mass suicide fiasco. What, was he out sick that day?”

Well, he’d make a mental note not to kill this Hajime guy if he ever met him. Owed him that much, at least.

\------------------

Chiaki tilted her head to the side again. She remembered the Parade vaguely, but it had been a long time, the protests blurry in her mind.

“Wait… Mass… suicide? When did…?”

\------------------

“…Not really up to date on current events, are you?” said Fuyuhiko, casually. “Guess that’s just further proof you really were in a coma. Uh, long story short… She made the entire reserve course trash the school and then off themselves, to kickstart the Tragedy. Our class took advantage of the chaos to go all missing-presumed-dead on the Future Foundation. I guess you would’ve already been dead at that point.”

\------------------

“Oh,” Chiaki said quietly. The thought of Hajime doing something like that… Chiaki shook her head. She didn't want to think about it. “No, he wasn’t there.”

She knew that Enoshima had been planning on doing terrible things, but that.... that was just _awful._ No, more than awful. All of those poor people… for no other reason than Despair.

This was just _sick._

But she didn’t say that; Fuyuhiko and her entire class were involved in all of this too. Chiaki was sure they already felt bad enough, on some level. She didn’t want to make anything worse for him, especially after he just had a breakdown. 

\------------------

Did no one tell her anything? Fuyuhiko sighed and leaned forward on the crappy mattress. “Hah, I actually have no idea how much you know about what’s going on. Obviously you know about the Despair stuff, and you’ve gotta know the world’s falling apart; you were out in it before we locked you in the basement.” That reminded him. “Oh, right, and we should probably get out of the basement, already? I’ve got a nice place upstairs. Come on, let me give you the tour. Maybe I can… catch you up on some shit, I don’t know. And you can fill me in on what you’ve been doing. Fair trade.”

He stood up, decisively, and Peko immediately snapped to attention, ready to follow.

\------------------

Chiaki perked up and nodded, getting off the bed herself and kneeling on the floor. She lifted up her mattress to reveal her (still on and paused) GameGirl, charger, and games. She gathered her electronics, shoved them into her hoodie pockets, and stood up, smiling and ready to go. “I’m ready when you are.” 

\------------------

Fuyuhiko pointedly did not comment when Chiaki revealed her contraband stash; only shot a sharp, cold look at Peko over Chiaki’s head when she was busy gathering it all up. Peko had the decency to blush slightly at his glare, ashamed. Sure, he hadn’t actually ordered anyone NOT to spoil Chiaki rotten, but the order had been IMPLIED. And whether or not Peko’d handed the games and consoles over herself, she’d definitely been complicit in letting it happen. A breach like that in the chain of command, from PEKO PEKOYAMA of all people, warranted a little… disciplinary action, later. A rebalancing of the scales of power. (Dear _god_ how Despair writhed in his gut at that, eager and ravenous.)

Then Chiaki was standing again, her things gathered in her hoodie, that little smile on her face, and he pushed all that to the back of his mind. He’d deal with Peko later. It definitely wasn’t something Chiaki needed to see. He’d locked her in a basement for a week, and he’d very nearly gone all Despair-high on her just now, so from now on he was going to be a _fucking immaculate_ host.

A toothy grin, a jerk of the head toward the open door, hands casually in his pockets, body language carefully crafted to radiate a casual friendliness. “Right, follow me. So where’s this Hajime guy now?”

\------------------

Chiaki tilted her head as they walked, her brows furrowing. “I… I actually don’t know. Hajime… he isn’t like he used to be.” Chiaki pouted for a moment. “He was really stoic and quiet for a while, but recently he’s been getting worried about me being hurt by --

Chiaki stopped. She didn’t want Fuyuhiko to think Hajime didn’t trust him; Hajime was sort of the leader of these people, wasn’t he? 

“By… everything. I think. It’s hard to tell how he feels about stuff sometimes. But I still wanted to go out and find all of you, so I couldn’t just sit still and wait forever! ...Hajime might get pretty mad at me for leaving him behind, but I needed to.”

\------------------

Leading the way out into the narrow warren of halls, Fuyuhiko listened as Chiaki explained about this Hajime friend of hers. _Isn’t like he used to be,_ and _stoic and quiet for a while_ sounded like somebody who the Monoworld had broken and reforged in the expected manner. “Right, yeah, can’t imagine he was real thrilled with you running off to get buddy-buddy with the Remnants of Despair. Well, he probably didn’t know we’ve got history.” He glanced over his shoulder at her as they walked. “As if any of us would hurt you. Let’s face it, you’re pretty much an honorary Remnant yourself.”

\------------------

Chiaki smiled at Fuyuhiko as he glanced over at her; she had almost forgotten what it was like, having someone else to depend on like this. Well, not entirely - she did rely on Hajime a lot when they were together too. She didn’t really want to, but she also didn’t really have a choice. He was the one who had taken care of her, and for a while there was only so much she could do on her own. Being in a coma for several years would do that to a person.

“I don’t think a lot of people would think I’m a Remnant, though.” Chiaki pointed out, picking up the pace on her end so she was walking side-by-side with Fuyuhiko instead of behind him. “I’m not in Despair at all.”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko waved that off as if it was an unimportant detail. “Not what I meant. Just mean that you’re one of us. Part of the group. The rest of this world-” he shook his head. “They’re nobodies, Chaiki. Either they’re broken and spineless and standing for nothing, or they’re Future Foundation. You though, you belong on our side.”

“If you’d gone to the Future Foundation, they probably would have killed you,” Peko confirmed stoically.

“Hey, don’t fuckin’ scare her. But yeah, probably. Bunch of paranoid little shits constantly at each other's throats, looking for Despair in each other’s eyes.” Sure, that was because their spies on the inside were doing a phenomenal job of facilitating that, but if the Future Foundation was really the bastion of hope it claimed to be, they wouldn’t be letting it happen so _easily._ “Dead girl walks in off the street, claiming she knows the Remnants of Despair? That’d send them into a feeding frenzy. That’s the problem with Hope. It’s fragile and defensive about it. Nah, you were right to come to us first.”

\------------------

Chiaki had heard of the Future Foundation before this point. Mostly from Hajime, who found them “boring.” Hajime generally found everything “boring” nowadays, so he wasn’t exactly a good judge of stuff like that. From the sound of things though, Hajime wasn’t the only one who didn’t seem to like them.

“I don’t think that it’s supposed to be like that.” Chiaki said quietly, more to herself than anything. Hope - real Hope anyway - wasn’t paranoid, or defensive, or any of those things. Hope was strong. 

Chiaki looked up at her classmates and wondered silently -- if she could show them how strong Hope really was, would they still want to be in Despair?

\------------------

Fuyuhiko didn’t particularly care what Chiaki thought Hope was supposed to be like, because Fuyuhiko didn’t particularly care about Hope in general. Maybe, though… maybe if he could show Chiaki Despair, real, glorious Despair, she would give up on the whole Hope thing.

He shook his head sharply, dislodging the thought. Screw that. He was not going to be the one to break Chiaki Nanami. They’d keep their respective worldviews in their respective corners, and everything would be fine.

He led her up out of the dingy basement, into the bright opulence of his living quarters. The house was huge; suburban in a country where suburban was rare and expensive, filled with accents from a tasteful blend of cultures both modern and traditional. They walked past servants, cleaning, past bodyguards and security detail in sharp black suits, and Fuyuhiko nodded cooly to each one, gaze radiating _wait for my orders, the situation has changed._

\------------------

“I’m glad I came to you first too,” Chiaki added, smiling as she walked beside him. She thought for a moment and continued: “Well, I went to Kazuichi and Teruteru before you, technically, but I’m glad I came to see you two. I’ve missed everyone. It’s…” Chiaki paused, trying to find the right words. “It’s been really lonely. I’m really glad I get to see you all again, even if it took me a while to find you.”

\------------------

“Kazuichi and Teruteru, huh? I guess if you woke up under Hope’s Peak, you had to have met Kazuichi first. I think he’s still squatting in the tunnels. What a shit welcoming committee that must have been.”

He waved over one of the men in suits, and the man bent over briefly so Fuyuhiko could murmur in his ear, “Prep the third floor guest room, I want it fuckin’ gleaming by the time I get her there. Have them put a mint on the pillow, fold the towels into bunnies or something. If it ain’t the Ritz when she walks in…” he left the threat hanging, and the man nodded shortly and hurried away to take care of things. Fuyuhiko turned back to Chiaki, all toothy smiles.

“Tell me all about it while I give you the tour.”


	2. Peko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki was played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko and Peko were played by RedPen.

Three and a half months ago, Chiaki woke up in a hospital bed in a stark and sterile room, the vast, dark recesses of a high-ceilinged operating theatre stretching away from her in every direction until the walls were lost to the darkness. A single too-bright operating light hung directly over her bed, glaring in the blackness, and a plethora of quietly beeping and blinking machines were clustered around her bed, their tubes and wires looping in and around her body.

She’d been frightened and confused. She did not recognize the room as Hope’s Peak Academy. It wasn’t a part of Hope’s Peak Academy that many people ever got to see. Her body was somehow both frail and far too heavy, and wouldn’t move when she told it to, her muscles weak and made from water. But she wasn’t dead. Somehow. So that was one thing to feel positive about.

Three and a half months ago, minus a few minutes, Hajime’s silhouette had crossed that light above her, almost unrecognizable with that long tangle of matted and unkempt hair, more like a bird of prey descending on her than a human being. Stoically, his face utterly devoid of emotion, he’d taken note of her vitals on the machines. Disconnected some wires, removed some tubes. Spoken to her in a voice both familiar and alien, words that her brain couldn’t process yet, questions that her numb and useless tongue couldn’t answer.

Three and a half months ago, minus a few days, she was sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed through hallways only vaguely familiar as the tunnels where she’d died, the once-gleaming black and white tile hidden by mounds of rotting and water-damaged wooden sets, like something from the forgotten backroom of a theatre, and the broken parts of elaborate, unidentifiable machines, some of them spotted and smeared in a dark reddish brown that she hoped was just rust.

The first time she met Kazuichi he was sprawled out on the floor of a former office-turned-mancave somewhere in the winding tunnels. The room's conference tables and file cabinets and uncomfortable office chairs were all shoved into a messy pile along one wall, replaced by the homey little additions of an ancient looking TV, a futon and wrinkled duvet that probably hadn’t been folded and put away in years, bits of shag carpeting torn up from who knows where, and walls lined with posters and magazine cutouts of girls in swimsuits and diagrams of engines and machinery, both tacked up with equal reverence. Her wheelchair crinkled against a thick carpet of abandoned snack wrappers as she was pushed inside. That all seemed familiar and normal for Kazuichi. But he was messing with something small and electronic and definitely still plugged in, heedless of the way it kept zapping his fingers as he took it apart, and when he’d looked up at her with a wide, sharp-toothed grin, there was something wrong with his eyes.

She’d end up seeing a lot more of that look. She’d learn the word for it eventually, too. Despair.

“Kazuichi doesn’t seem to have changed much, really,” Chiaki said, after taking a moment to think on what she should say. “He was still really focused on his machines. He even thought I was a robot at first.” She smiled a little, in spite of everything. “He was actually a little disappointed when he realized I wasn’t one, but he was happy to see me.”

The emotional whiplash of Kazuichi looking depressed that technology hadn’t advanced far enough to make a Chiaki Nanami A.I. robot, but then suddenly shocked and gleeful that she was still, in fact, a living, breathing human being, had been kind of funny, actually.

\------------------

“Yeah, that sounds like Kazuichi. Chiaki’s alive? Let’s mourn the fact that she’s not an android.” The tour was in full swing now, Chiaki being ushered along between Peko and Fuyuhiko and shown around the house. Fuyuhiko swung a door open, letting her glance inside briefly before moving on. “Kitchen. Don’t try to cook for yourself, we’ve got people for that.”

\------------------

Chiaki remembered being in awe when she had first stumbled on the Kuzuryu house a week ago. She sneaked in behind someone who had worked here (though she didn’t ever tell anyone that part, she didn’t want to get Okamoto into trouble) and was caught by security not long after. She was taken to Peko, who took her to Fuyuhiko… 

She didn’t get to see much more of the house after that.

Now that she had the chance to actually look at it, she could tell that it was definitely something to behold -- nothing like the places she had stayed at after separating from Hajime. On the way to find Fuyuhiko, she’d squatted in old rickety apartment buildings and small, abandoned, dingy suburban homes. Compared to that, Fuyuhiko’s home was a castle. Chiaki felt like she had been transported straight into the _Yakuza_ series, complete with bodyguards and henchmen lining the walls. Of course, considering Fuyuhiko was the Ultimate Yakuza, that made sense.

She took note of where the kitchen was. She didn’t exactly have a ‘normal’ sleeping schedule, so knowing where the midnight snacks were stashed was a definite must. ...not that Chiaki was planning on stealing Fuyuhiko’s food. She’d ask first. Probably.

\------------------

“Up here’s the tor…” Screams emanated from the next room, and Fuyuhiko walked swiftly past it without missing a beat. “…nado shelter. You know. Safe room, in case there’s a tornado. Don’t go in there, ever.” There was a faint snort of amusement from Peko at how quickly he’d come up with that.

\------------------

Chiaki jumped at the sudden scream, almost stopping to see if someone was hurt -- but Fuyuhiko kept walking, and Peko gently urged Chiaki on. She turned around and let her brows visibly furrow for a moment, worry on her face as Fuyuhiko continued with the tour as if someone didn’t sound like they were being tortured.

\------------------

“And, uh… my office is just up the stairs here. Knock before entering. Accidents happen to people who don’t. Anyway, yeah, keep going,” said Fuyuhiko. “You roomed with Kazuichi for a while. Why the hell didn’t he tell the rest of us?”

\------------------

“Hajime asked him not to,” said Chiaki, and did not add, _and the rest of you don’t really talk to him much anyway, I think._

Kazuichi had seemed to spend most of his days in self-absorbed isolation, buried in his projects, building robots and death machines and giggling quietly to himself each time he electrocuted himself or crushed his hands or burned his fingers. She had not seen a single other classmate try to contact him, the entire time she’d been there.

\------------------

“Yeah? And why’s he doing what this Hajime guy says?” Fuyuhiko asked. He didn’t say it aloud, but for that matter, why the hell was Kazuichi letting some random person play roommate with him? Chiaki’s friend or not, Kazuichi was a Remnant of Despair. The guy should be dead.

\------------------

Chiaki shrugged in response. “They’re friends, I think. Sometimes they’d have ‘guy time’ which was surprisingly loud.”

\------------------

Ah. Right. A boyfriend, then. Fuyuhiko had a feeling he’d just won the running bet between the Remnants regarding “when will Kazuichi Soda realize he is bisexual.”

“You know what, nevermind,” he said, his voice a little too high pitched. “I actually do not want ANY of the details.”

\------------------

Chiaki tilted her head to the side inquisitively, wondering why Fuyuhiko wouldn’t want to know about Kazuichi’s High Speed Monokuma racing, but she figured that if he didn’t want to know then she wouldn’t bother explaining. 

Besides, those things were kind of creepy, and making them rocket-powered only added to that, in Chiaki’s opinion. 

Moving on.

Two weeks ago, after three and quarter months of physical therapy and the frustrating process of reteaching her body how to do things like walk and pick things up and swallow solid food, Chiaki had surreptitiously asked Kazuichi a couple of innocuous, not at all suspicious questions about the locations of the other Remnants of Despair, and had gotten a lot of vague and not at all helpful answers. Kazuichi was not high enough on the totem pole to know anything important. But she’d gotten two locations specific enough to work with, and in the dead of night she’d slipped quietly out of the tunnels and into the polluted air of the outside world.

Hajime had warned her how dangerous that world was. But this was important.

“Teruteru was…” she went on, telling the story as the tour continued, passing the doorways to more rooms than any house had a right to have. “Teruteru.”

He had been in the middle of a Despair fit -- similar to what Fuyuhiko had done earlier, but much longer and more extreme and… physical. She fidgeted with her pockets for a moment, wanting to distract herself from the memory of Teruteru chasing after her around a factory and threatening to make her a main course -- a phrase she was entirely too scared to find out was a double entendre or not. Fortunately Chiaki had played enough 18+ games to know what would distract him long enough for her to escape.

She wasn’t going to tell Fuyuhiko about that part. She didn’t think he’d take it well.

“I don’t think he was in a very good place when I saw him. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk with him like I did with Kazuichi. He took one look at me and pulled out a knife, and… it wasn’t really a good idea to stick around, probably.”

\------------------

“So, Teruteru was being a creep?” said Fuyuhiko, because that’s what Teruteru being Teruteru usually meant. “You want me to have Peko teach him some manners? You ever want anybody roughed up, all you gotta do is ask.”

\------------------

“What? No, don't do that!” Chiaki looked from Fuyuhiko to Peko before pouting at them. “You shouldn’t hurt your classmates. And I’d never encourage that.” She wasn’t going to bring up the time she socked the same aforementioned classmate in the face in front of god and everyone. That time was an outlier and would not be counted.

\------------------

“You’re seriously including Teruteru in that? You know, if it was Peko beating the shit out of him, he’d probably _like_ it.” Fuyuhiko paused, blinking nonplussedly. “Actually, you’re right. Let’s not send Peko to do that.”

The pause gave Chiaki time to catch up to him, since she’d been trailing behind a bit after dallying so long around the torture ro- er, the tornado shelter that seemed to have her so distracted. What was the problem? Not like it was anyone she knew in there.

(He was definitely going to have to put guards on some of these more sensitive areas, to… gently encourage her not to explore where she shouldn’t.)

“Hey, keep up. So you got the sitting room, the meeting room, the reading room, the second sitting room, the dining room…” He listed off rooms as he passed them, swinging doors open without pausing, until they got to the third floor guest room he’d promised her. Luckily for his staff, they’d managed to fancy it up in time. There was indeed a mint on the pillow and a towel folded into a bunny. Fuyuhiko swept his arm theatrically as if to imply that he ALWAYS kept it like that, and welcomed her inside.

“…And your room. Furnishings are mostly Western style, but I can have them swapped out on the hour for you if you want a futon. Anything you want, really. Just say. I got so much power, Chiaki, I can make anything happen for you.”

Was he actually begging for her approval, here? The look in Peko’s eyes, standing just behind Chiaki in the doorway, seemed subtly surprised at him.

\------------------

Chiaki had her own room. It had been a while since she could say that. That big empty operating theatre was creepy and did not count. She stepped inside, her eyes wide and looking around. It was definitely grand -- it was probably made to host any non-specific person, but it still felt like the room of someone special. It was almost surreal. She silently wondered how many consoles she could fit in here… but decided against asking. Just because Fuyuhiko _said_ he was willing to give her anything, didn’t mean she had to take advantage of him like that. Consoles were expensive.

Chiaki spotted the bunny-shaped towel, smiling before picking it up off of her bed and sitting in its place, placing it on her lap delicately. “I like it,” she said matter-of-factly, kicking her legs in an animated fashion. She was unable to properly sit still. “I like it a lot. I haven’t had my own room since I woke up, so this is really nice, Fuyuhiko.” She stopped fidgeting for a moment, looking at her two friends with honest gratitude. “Thank you.”

\------------------

She liked it. Of course she liked it, she’d probably been slumming it in filthy alleys and abandoned buildings since she left Hope’s Peak, but… she liked it.

“Y-yeah, well…” Fuyuhiko found himself looking away, oddly embarrassed. Right, yeah, this was how you did the friendship thing. He was out of practice. “It’s not like it’s some big deal. Just happened to have a spare room, is all. Owe it to you for the misunderstanding, earlier. Not like you’ve got any clue how to survive out there, so it’s fine if you stay.”

(Dammit, stop wanting to hug her. Yakuza don’t _hug._ )

“Uh. It’s yours, for however long you want,” he continued. “You’re not intruding, so, uh… I’ve gotta go let the house staff know what’s up. Peko can help you get settled.” He shoved Peko inside and slammed the door abruptly.

Peko stood there dazedly for a moment, and then a small, crooked smile quirked one side of her mouth. “That… went well.”

\------------------

Chiaki giggled, despite her confusion -- she was pretty sure Fuyuhiko had nothing to be embarrassed about. Probably. Maybe he wasn’t used to people being nice like that anymore?

Chiaki decided then to make it a point to be nice to Fuyuhiko whenever possible. 

“I think so too,” she said, her expression changing to something serious as she gently moved the towel-bunny off of her lap. Chiaki looked up at Peko, before moving off of the bed and giving her friend an abrupt hug. She held her tight for a moment before loosening her grip, looking up at her friend. “Thanks for sticking up for me,” she said, giving Peko a small smile again. “I don’t think he would have listened to me otherwise.”

\------------------

Peko tensed when Chiaki hugged her. In her mind, she’d categorized the motion as “non-threat” immediately, but she still wasn’t used to that sort of contact. She made herself relax when Chiaki smiled up at her, and moved the muscles around her mouth to smile back. (Should she be doing something with her hands? Chiaki seemed to be handling things, but would hugging back be required? She was not trained for this situation.)

“Please, do not think so little of the young master. Since it really is you, he would have realized eventually that he was wrong. I simply pushed him to consider it further, for his own sake.” Awkwardly, she settled for patting the shorter girl on the head.

Then her smile vanished. “I sincerely hope you know what you are doing.”

\------------------

Chiaki nodded as Peko patted her head -- her friend was right. She knew Fuyuhiko was kind of stubborn sometimes, but he would have eventually come around. It seemed like even in Despair, he wouldn’t deny the facts if they were staring him in the face. It was good to know that he hadn’t changed that much. 

Peko’s face fell, and Chiaki blinked. Chiaki was pretty sure she knew what she was doing. Sure, dealing with Fuyuhiko was going to be difficult, but...

“I won’t let things stay like this.” Chiaki said, her expression mimicking Peko’s. “Everything is going to be fine. So don’t worry, okay?” She gave Peko a reassuring smile. “I can handle it.”

\------------------

Peko Pekoyama was… intensely worried. The situation was becoming complicated. Her loyalties should lie with Fuyuhiko, but Chiaki was her friend too. A friend she didn’t want to see hurt. Was it really alright to be giving her confidential information? The young master had left them alone together. The young master had TRUSTED them alone together. Was this a conversation she should really be having?

Peko’s lips tightened into a thin, determined line for a moment as she sorted it all out in her head. Finally: “Chiaki. When you say you will not let things stay like this, you mean… bringing him out of Despair, don’t you?”

\------------------

Chiaki winced, shrugging, and cringed into herself slightly. Peko looked upset. She hadn’t intended on talking about it with either of them so soon, but… she didn’t want to lie. At least, not about this. 

“I do mean that.” Chiaki responded, unfolding herself and standing straight, while doing her best to look confident. “I know that you might not like it very much, but…” Chiaki thought about the next thing to say here. How could she convince Peko to go along with this? If Fuyuhiko found out, it wouldn’t end well, for sure. “But it’s what’s best for you guys, I think.”

\------------------

Peko cast a sharp glance around the room. Fuyuhiko didn’t usually have this guest room bugged, and he hadn’t given the order to do so when prepping it for Chiaki, so she was fairly certain they wouldn’t be overheard. All the same, Peko reached behind her and quietly locked the deadbolt.

\------------------

At that little click, Chiaki looked around Peko’s back to see that her friend had locked the two of them inside her bedroom. There was another little click in Chiaki’s head: the realization that this was probably (no, _definitely_ ) a secret conversation. Not that she was going to tell anyone anyway, but yeah, definitely a secret. It felt like being a spy. Like in _Goldeneye 007._ She looked back up at Peko’s face, nervous and expectant.

\------------------

“Chiaki,” Peko said, taking a deep breath. “There is nothing I want more in the _world,_ than for my master to cast aside his Despair.”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked and stared for a moment, before tilting her head in confusion. “But… I thought you were also in Despair?”

\------------------

Peko cast her gaze aside, staring unseeingly into a corner of the room while faint spots of red blossomed on her cheeks, as if she was ashamed. “The… high that the others get from their Despair. From hurting themselves, hurting others, breaking the world… I… I haven’t felt that in almost two years.” She _was_ ashamed. It felt like admitting a dirty secret, something she could never, ever share with Fuyuhiko.

“I used to, I think. Back at the beginning. But protecting my young master was more important. There was always so much to do, so many other things that took priority. I stopped chasing Despair. And after enough time had passed, I just… grew numb to it. I’m not sure if I _am_ in Despair, anymore.”

\------------------

What.

“What.”

Chiaki felt a few different emotions all at once -- elation, at the idea of Peko not only not being in Despair but getting out of Despair by _herself._ Nervousness, because should Peko be telling her this? Was it dangerous? Relief, at not having to do this all by herself. Combined with a burst of energy from her sudden no-longer-being-stuck-in-the-basement-itis, Chiaki bounced for a moment and hugged Peko again, much tighter this time.

“I’m so proud of you!” Chiaki squealed, burying her face in Peko’s shoulder to muffle the sound of her excitement. She backed away before Peko had a chance to respond in any way, and Chiaki beamed up at her friend. “That must have been really hard on you.”

\------------------

Peko didn’t outwardly respond to Chiaki’s bubbly, happy excitement, but for some reason it made her insides clench, even more ashamed. “In practice, it really has not mattered. I am still just a tool, made to follow my master’s wishes. And my master wants to break the world. He has no desire to be saved.”

\------------------

“He wouldn’t want this, I think.” Chiaki said solemnly. “Not really. The Fuyuhiko I knew at Hope’s Peak wouldn’t want the world to burn like this. Not in his right mind, anyway. Besides, I’m the class rep so… it’s my job to make things better for everyone. I think.”

\------------------

“That was a long time ago,” Peko said. Not coldly, she didn’t think, not cruelly, but it was the truth. They weren’t the ragtag group of highschool misfits they used to be. “How can you be sure that you know what he wants _now?”_

Truthfully, Fuyuhiko didn’t want Despair so much as he needed Despair the way an addict needed a fix. Peko very much wanted Fuyuhiko to not need that Despair. But what Peko wanted didn’t matter, and what Fuyuhiko wanted… she wasn’t sure of that anymore. Either way, the whole goal felt like a fairy tale. A pipe dream that could never actually happen. Impossible. And extraordinarily dangerous, if Fuyuhiko found out. It felt treasonous to even THINK like this. Peko was a tool, she wasn’t supposed to be going behind her master’s back, no matter what she thought was best for him.

It was all so very complicated. She found herself unable to make a decision. Making decisions was not her job.

“I am… sorry,” she said faintly, at last, because she hadn’t meant to take it all out on Chiaki. “It is not your fault that you were not here. I just mean that you are attempting to do this for people who are almost strangers to you, in a world whose rules you do not understand.”

\------------------

“Fuyuhiko is still Fuyuhiko, isn’t he?” Chiaki asked, her cheeks puffing out into a pout. “Even in Despair, he knows what he’s doing isn’t right. If it weren’t for the Despair, he wouldn’t do stuff like this. He wouldn’t let stuff like this happen on his watch, either.”

\------------------

 _Impossible, impossible, impossible,_ something in Peko’s head continued to chant. “Do you know what Despair is?” she asked. “How it works, how it is fed? You are fighting blindfolded.”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked and tilted her head, thinking about it. Peko seemed to want to help her… so she should probably tell Peko everything she knew. (At least, everything she knew as of right now. Chiaki had the feeling that she’d only scratched the surface of all of this Despair stuff, but maybe Peko could help with that.)

“I know Despair is dangerous,” she began, moving back towards her bed and picking up the towel-bunny, fidgeting with it. “It makes people hurt others, and themselves, and makes them do awful things, and it tricks them into feeling like it’s a good thing. But Fuyuhiko isn’t actually like that. He’s a good person, and… he wouldn’t actually want this for the world, or for himself.”

\------------------

“That is a very basic way of putting it, but you aren’t wrong,” said Peko. “I do not know the medical reasons, precisely, but yes. The brain registers pain as pleasure and pleasure as pain. That is why this is all so much more complicated than you seem to realize. Master Fuyuhiko-”

She was clenching her fists tightly, she realized, though her voice was calm. Talking about Fuyuhiko’s Despair so openly… it was harder than she’d expected. Not something she wanted to think about. Something she’d AVOIDED thinking about for a very long time. But if anyone could get through to him, surely it would be Chiaki. Was it really treason, just to tell her this much?

Yes. It could get both of them killed. It was that type of situation.

Peko carefully relaxed her hands. Chiaki hadn’t seen, she was fiddling with the rabbit. “Master Fuyuhiko,” she tried again, calmly, “Is a yakuza. He is used to all of this. What he is doing to the world is not what brings him Despair. He… He suffers by making the people he cares about suffer.” Her heart was racing. This was betrayal. (This could _save_ him.) “You need to understand. If you stay, if you attempt this, he will hurt you. He may kill you.”

\------------------

Chiaki fidgeting hands stopped for a moment, at Peko’s warning. That… made sense. Fuyuhiko had always been protective about those he cared about. Of course he would get his Despair from their suffering. It even explained what happened before. Seeing Chiaki’s scars… it probably set him off. Chiaki made a mental note to see if she could find longer skirts to wear while she stayed here. She knew that was only part of it, but every little bit helped. However…

“I know it’s dangerous.” Chiaki said, looking back at Peko. “Hajime said it would be, too, though he didn’t give me any specifics. But… I care about Fuyuhiko. And you too, Peko.” Chiaki gave her friend a serious look from across the room. “What Fuyuhiko’s doing is wrong. It’ll be hard, and maybe scary, but I can help him, I think. And I’m not going to leave a friend behind.”

\------------------

Peko met Chiaki’s eyes, and swallowed against the sudden knot in her throat. “I cannot openly defy him. Anything he orders me to do, I will do it. _Anything,_ Chiaki. But if you have a plan…”

_Impossible, impossible, impossible!! Treason, treason, treason!!_

Impossible didn’t matter. Treason didn’t matter. Chiaki sounded so sure of herself, so _determined,_ that her determination seemed to spill over into Peko too. Maybe it wasn’t impossible. If there was the slimmest, tiniest whisper of a chance that her young master could be saved, that he could go back to being the Fuyuhiko he used to be…

...How had she ever thought there was a choice to be made in the first place? Her duty was obvious.

“I will help you, however I can.” In a flourish, she’d drawn forth her sword (real and metal and gleaming in the light) and knelt, her forehead pressed to the hilt. It was a position she’d taken many times for Fuyuhiko. A tool polished and sharpened, lying ready for the hand that would put it to work. 

“…If you would see fit to use me.”

\------------------

Chiaki’s eyes widened as Peko knelt down, bowing to her as though she were someone important. Chiaki had never seen that happen before -- she had only ever seen stuff like this in video games or anime, but definitely not in real life. 

“Wait, you don’t have to do that!” she said, flustered and not entirely sure what to do in this sort of situation. Honestly, Chiaki hadn’t even considered involving Peko in all of this. Frankly, she’d thought Peko was in Despair until about a minute and a half ago. Now that she knew the truth, was it right to get Peko involved like this? If she wasn’t in Despair, she could get hurt really badly - or worse - if the two of them weren’t careful. Did Chiaki want to risk that?

She knelt down as well, getting on Peko’s level. “I do want your help, but I don’t want you to get hurt, either. However…” Chiaki’s cheeks puffed out in a thoughtful pout while she continued. “I know Fuyuhiko is really important to you. I think he’s raised all of your flags by now, except for the final cutscene.”

(That faint flush in Peko’s cheeks went even redder.)

“So I don’t want to say ‘no’ either.” She wasn’t giving Peko an answer yet. More just thinking out loud. Peko was trusting her with this; she was placing her life in Chiaki’s hands. Maybe literally. It didn’t feel right, really, choosing whether or not Peko would help her get Fuyuhiko out of Despair. Mostly _because_ it was something that could endanger her life. 

“Peko… this should be your decision. I think.” Chiaki said. “You understand the risks better than I do at this point, so… if you’re sure you want to help me, I won’t stop you, okay?” Chiaki gave Peko a soft smile, trying her best to be encouraging. “Just be careful, and if something bad happens, let me know. I’m not much of a healer, but I can do my best. I’m sure I can put bandages on right. Like Doctor Mario!” 

She tapped her chin, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “You’re not just helping me, I think. We’re helping each other.”

\------------------

Peko’s mind went blank.

To offer herself up as a tool, to swear herself body, mind, and soul to someone, and then be told “do what you want to do” was… distressingly nostalgic. For a moment, she was in high school again, Fuyuhiko pacing across an empty classroom in the old brick school building and ranting. (“No more taking my orders!! Never again!! I told you, the second we walked through those doors our old relationship was over!!”)

(“If that is your order, Young Master.”)

(“God DAMN IT, Peko.”)

(But there was a little smile fighting to take root at the corners of his mouth, because she’d made a joke. He’d been trying to encourage that. Telling her to “grow a fuckin’ personality, my parents ain’t watching.”)

The person in the memory was a completely different Fuyuhiko, of course. A boy who looked the same, talked the same, had all the same mannerisms, but lacked the soulless, devouring force eating away at something behind his eyes. Peko’s hands tightened on the sword. She was staring at the carpet, at Chiaki’s shadow.

“You’re talking about risks as if there are any,” she said, quietly. “You talk of choice as if there is one.”

She looked up, sharp eyes meeting Chiaki’s. The risk didn’t matter. If Fuyuhiko hurt her, if Fuyuhiko killed her, that didn’t matter. She would walk through fire to see that smile again.

“Do not misunderstand. YOU are playing with fire. YOU may very well die. But there is no risk for me. I have nothing of value to lose, and everything to gain. How could it possibly be a choice?”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked as Peko explained it. Oh, good! She’d been so concerned about how dangerous it would be, but it sounded like Peko wasn’t worried about being hurt by Fuyuhiko at all. Well, that made sense. Fuyuhiko and Peko were really close, so of course he would never hurt her, even in Despair. She nodded, her smile growing. “Okay.”

Chiaki was glad Peko wanted to help. Fuyuhiko was different from a lot of Chiaki’s other classmates -- he was a good person deep down, but he was more... prickly. But Chiaki never bothered playing on Easy, and she wasn’t going to start now.


	3. Kazuichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meta conversation we had during this part of the story: What color are we making the blood??
> 
> In this chapter, Chiaki was played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko, Peko, and Kazuichi were played by RedPen.

It had been another week after her conversations with Fuyuhiko and Peko respectively. Chiaki was properly settled into her room now. Granted, that didn’t take much -- it’s not like she had any belongings to decorate the place with. All she had ever really asked for was an extension cord to plug her handheld into so it could charge while she played. 

(Oh, and Fuyuhiko had loaned her the console they’d used to play Smash Brothers, with the projector and everything. Why did he own that?)

Things were looking up. Her bed was comfy, and her room was cute. She could take naps whenever she wanted. There was food whenever she wanted it, too, which was a luxury she’d really, really missed while out traveling around in the apocalypse. Sure, she’d barely seen Fuyuhiko or Peko all week, so that hadn’t really changed. But that was because Fuyuhiko was very busy doing... Yakuza things, and Peko was very busy helping him do that. At least now that she wasn’t locked in the basement, she had the freedom to wander around the house and visit them.

Early in the week, Chiaki made the effort; she really, really did. Except, of course, she had a soft bed now, and video games, and her friends could be A Lot, sometimes. It was okay to splay herself out across the sheets and play Pokemon Yellow for a little bit before trying again, probably.

Watching Pikachu follow her around in Lavender Town was nostalgic and fun. She’d just do this for a few hours, and then get back to work.

\------------------

Fuyuhiko could hear the blippy little GameGirl soundfont as he approached the door to Chiaki’s room. There was always the sound of some video game echoing down this hallway. It was nice. He nodded to the two stoic bodyguards on either side of her door (admittedly, as much there to keep him informed of her movements as to actually protect her, but he didn’t have to TELL her that), and rapped his knuckles against the door, hoping she wasn’t too absorbed in her game to hear him.

He always knocked, the few times he’d looked in on her. Nonthreatening, respecting her space. The day he started barging in again as though she was a prisoner was the day she’d decide to leave, he figured. Or rather, the day she’d find out she wasn’t allowed to. Things would get… awkward if he had to keep her here by force. But the outside world was dangerous, and Chiaki Nanami’s inevitable death to it wouldn’t be on Fuyuhiko’s conscience, whatever Chiaki herself had to say about it.

“She didn’t hear you,” said Peko, standing in her usual place slightly beside and behind him, and Fuyuhiko sighed. 

“Yeah, she never does. I have lost out to fuckin’ _pikachu.”_ He knocked again, much louder. “HEY, CHIAKI!”

\------------------

Chiaki jumped at the sound of someone banging on her bedroom door, looking over her shoulder at the offending sound as Fuyuhiko yelled her name. 

Oh. Fuyuhiko wanted to hang out again. Chiaki smiled, pausing her game and getting off of her bed. She answered the door, smiling at her friends as if she hadn’t been playing Pokemon for so long she forgot to eat. Again. 

Oh well. She could deal with that later.

“Hi,” she said, giving her friends a small wave. “Did you want to do something today?”

\------------------

Door open, invitation secured as far as Fuyuhiko was concerned. He brushed roughly past her and flung open the curtains of one of the windows looking down on his immaculate lawn. “Shit, it’s dark in here. You’re gonna ruin your eyes.”

“Yes, he wants to do something today,” Peko informed Chiaki dutifully, while Fuyuhiko stalked over to the bed and managed to make fixing the crumpled up fitted sheet look menacing.

“You’ve been cooped up in here cultivating your artesian carpal tunnel for what, a week now?” Alright, yes, he’d been too busy to spend much time with her. Not the point. “I’m having my cleaning staff tackle your gamer lair, and WE’RE going out on the town.”

\------------------

Chiaki squinted and rubbed her eyes when Fuyuhiko opened the curtains -- the sky was dim, but the room was still brighter than it had been previously.

“Going out on the town?” She tilted her head slightly, blinking. Last time she had been outside it wasn’t… _pleasant,_ to say the least. Granted, if she was with Fuyuhiko and Peko, she’d definitely be safe. She knew that much. “Are you going to show me that park you were telling me about? The… fire park? That’d be dangerous… but cool. I think.”

\------------------

“Fire Park is having some… technical difficulties,” Fuyuhiko muttered defensively, the closest he was prepared to come to admitting that Park Which Is Perpetually On Fire was not turning out to be as fun and financially feasible to keep alight as it had sounded. “But, uh… look, I figure the best way to really catch up is to show you what I’ve been up to the past few years.”

He gestured behind himself to the window, where smoggy air hid all but the barest silhouettes of the city beyond his garden wall. “So you survived out there for a week, outside my territory?” The fact that the majority of the continent of Asia was, on paper, his territory, did not merit mentioning. Sure, he greased the wheels that fostered chaos in it, but when it came to micromanaged, carefully controlled dystopia, this city was Fuyuhiko’s baby.

“You think it’s all just hell out there, but you’ve got no context. You know how Nagito’s running Towa? Scratch that, of course you don’t, you’ve been in a coma. But trust me. Towa ‘Last Bastion of Civilized Society’ City is a chaotic shithole compared to what I’ve got going on in Nishi-Shinjuku. We’ve got structure, Chiaki. We’ve got rules. Hell, most people even still have _plumbing.”_

\------------------

Chaiki listened as Fuyuhiko talked about how well he ran his part of the world, tilting her head in curiosity. She _did_ wonder what Fuyuhiko did when she wasn’t around -- people around here tended to brush her questions off by chalking things up to ‘yakuza business.’ She felt a little out of the loop because of it. It’s not like she hadn’t played the _Yakuza_ series. She knew what the yakuza did. She’d just never seen it in real life before.

Plus, if they all went out, she could see _other people_ , which was not a luxury that she could safely afford while traveling on her own through the Despair world. 

Chiaki smiled. She was excited, and more importantly, happy to see Fuyuhiko excited. She couldn’t say she one hundred percent understood what he was talking about (probably more ‘yakuza business’) but she would definitely try.

“Do you want to leave now?” She asked, before placing her finger on her chin. “It’s still light out, so we should leave soon.” She looked outside, the perpetually red sky looming over the world like an evil spectre. It was hard to tell what time of day it was. “Probably.”

\------------------

“Soon,” as it turned out, wasn’t going to happen, because Fuyuhiko insisted on providing her with a gas mask and having one of his weedy-looking accountants give her a full safety seminar on how to use it. (“Are you kidding me? The air out there is fuckin’ death, you WILL wear that. No I don’t care that you survived in it just fine, you’ve probably got lung cancer. Put it on.”)

But eventually, he, Peko, and Chiaki were lounging in the back of a long, sleek limousine, cruising between the massive skyscrapers of one of Tokyo’s business districts. Fuyuhiko, gas mask hanging loose around his neck, was trying not to grin too eagerly as he pointed out spots of interest through the tinted glass.

“Think most of the population is squatting in the big high rise hotels. We’ve been good about keeping the power and the plumbing going. Definitely gotta give you a tour of one of those. Fancy shit. Long as they pay their protection money, nobody bothers them.”

The car drove past a group of ragged figures who definitely hadn’t been able to scrounge up any protection money, huddling together on the sidewalk. Fuyuhiko’s eyes slid right past them, unseeing.

“‘Course, I’ve got my own guys running the government building…”

He kept talking while the world scrolled by in fire and violence and vandalism: smashed windows, looted stores, the smoldering remains of cars. Often, the limo would have to swerve around wreckage piled in the streets. Graffiti was everywhere, even an absolutely colossal cartoon of a monokuma scrawled up the side of an office building, which Fuyuhiko casually introduced as “street art, you know, murals and shit. We’re really into the arts. I’ve got a bunch of design schools around here we never burned down.”

He kept shooting glances over at Chiaki, trying to read her expression through the gas mask. Was she impressed? She was impressed, right? Damn, why was he even trying to impress her? He didn’t need validation. But some small, quiet, insistent part of him kept wanting her approval. Chiaki’s eyes - all he could see of her face - did not look approving.

\------------------

The town, as Chiaki should have expected, was in absolute shambles.

Fuyuhiko explained that as long as people paid their protection money, he would help them, but... Hajime had told her money didn't really matter anymore. She knew that that part was just ‘yakuza business’; that was what they did. They helped people, for a price. Chiaki had learned that from the _Yakuza_ games. Fuyuhiko went on and on about how this town was prospering in comparison to others, but something didn't feel quite right. She saw people in ragged clothes huddled together, trying to stay safe. Chiaki felt her chest ache -- it wasn't long ago that that was her. How could this happen? Why wasn't Fuyuhiko doing anything about this? Wasn't he --?

No. Chiaki knew why. She didn't need to ask -- it was Despair. Fuyuhiko was proud of how this place was run because it was full of Despair. He was focusing on the details; about how those he protected had more amenities, about how there was a thriving culture here. But people were still suffering and scared out of their minds. And on top of that, there were those who were... infected? Addicted? Despair was hard to pinpoint, but once it had you it... made you do crazy things.

Suddenly there was a crash of breaking glass, and the limo jerked hard. There was an audible _thump_ sound from under the tires, and another jerking bump happened, before the limo skidded to a stop. Chiaki grabbed onto her chair to keep herself steady, having gotten used to the car having to swerve suddenly to dodge debris, but when they didn’t keep moving, Chiaki felt her stomach drop. She looked at Fuyuhiko and Peko, hoping that this wasn’t what she thought it was.

She heard the driver get out and move to the back of the car. The door opened. "We have company, Sir. You and Miss Nanami may want to get somewhere safe."

\------------------

Peko was darting out of the door, sword drawn, before the driver had even finished speaking. Gritting his teeth in fury, Fuyuhiko wasted no time in grabbing Chiaki by the arm and escorting her out behind him. “Stay close and keep your eyes on the fuckin’ asphalt. You’re fine. We’re fine.”

The windshield of his car was smashed, the front fender dented, one of the mirrors missing. There was a leg caught in one of the back wheel wells, the rest of its twisted and broken body hidden under the limo. The rest of the group of rioters who’d sideswiped the car with bats and pipes and broken street signs were now running to catch up to where they’d skidded to a halt. The road in front of them was blocked off completely by a makeshift barricade of rubble and other broken vehicles. This wasn’t the chaos of an ordinary, Despair-fueled riot, but a calculated trap.

Dammit. This was not going to impress Chiaki.

Some of the ragged street-dwellers who’d been clustered along the sidewalks took to sprinting away from the action. Some continued to huddle, apathetic and hollow. One of them started throwing rocks. Fuyuhiko roughly pulled Chiaki closer and spared a minute to properly affix his own gas mask as the driver calmly shut the car door behind them and pulled out an automatic rifle. Peko was already standing ready in the middle of the street, and Fuyuhiko called out instructions to her.

“Don’t maim any faces. I wanna ID these bastards afterwards, figure out who’s got _family.”_

Peko nodded shortly, her eyes on the loose knot of approaching people. Pulling a small pistol out of his waistband, Fuyuhiko gestured Chiaki toward the barricade with it, growling under his breath all the while. “ _Typical._ Shitheads gotta show up NOW, fuckin’ ruin the tour. You TRY to show a girl a good time, clean the place up for company, make a POINT about how ORGANIZED everything is- C’mon, climb. Peko fights better when nobody’s in her way.”

There were screams from the little mob as Fuyuhiko’s driver started firing indiscriminately into the crowd, hitting as many of the dead-eyed homeless as he did rioters. Peko sprinted forward to meet them and brought her sword down on someone’s skull, making them crumple to the street. Fuyuhiko continued to usher Chiaki up the slope of rubble.

\------------------

Chiaki followed Fuyuhiko away from the fight. She kept trying to turn to see if Peko and the driver were okay, but Fuyuhiko’s insistent pulling (and grumbling) prevented her from doing so. The fight behind the two of them was only evident through the sound of the rifle, cracking bones, and shouting people. 

“I hope everyone is okay…” Chiaki said, the sound of gunshots suddenly making her realize that maybe looking _wasn’t_ a good idea. Considering everything that had happened to her so far since she’d woken up, Chiaki figured that adding more trauma on top of that wouldn’t be smart.

Abruptly, the sound of gunfire stopped. In spite of herself, Chiaki pulled away from Fuyuhiko’s grip a bit and risked turning around, her eyes finding Fuyuhiko’s driver on the ground, passed out (hopefully), while one of the rioters picked up his gun and started to laugh maniacally. He held the gun up in the air like it was a trophy, his cackling only growing in volume.

The laughing stopped, the assailant seeming to look at --

Oh. Things may have just taken a turn for the worse.

“Fuyuhiko, we should run.” Chiaki turned around, looking up at her friend above her. “Probably.”

\------------------

“Shit,” Fuyuhiko growled under his breath, raising his own pistol as the man with the gun spotted them. “No, it’s fine, stay behind me, we’re fine, you think I would be giving you a tour of my fuckin’ beautiful triumph of social engineering if it wasn’t one hundred percent safe?” He fired off a few shots, and missed repeatedly. “Oh- fucking _depth perception-”_

And the world slowed down.

At the sound of the pistol, Peko whirled around, eyes searching frantically for Fuyuhiko. The person behind her clocked her in the head with a cinderblock. Not even very hard, it glanced to the side without drawing blood, but Fuyuhiko’s mouth opened in wordless rage all the same, and the hand gripping Chiaki’s arm sprang open as he took a single, stumbling step back down the pile of rubble. The man with the semiautomatic rifle pulled the trigger.

And the world sped up.

Fuyuhiko was lying at the bottom of the rubble, a slow burning spreading out from a dull point of pain near his shoulder. The car was between him and the man with the gun. It was not between the man with the gun and Chiaki, who was still standing uncertainly halfway up the rubble, staring down at him and wavering as if still unsure whether to run. (Of course she’s unsure. You told her it was safe.)

“OKAY! FUCK IT! RUN!! FUCKING RUN, CHIAKI!! FU c ki n g…”

His voice went breathy, petered out. The world was spinning, turning white hot, blood rushing in his ears. (What a goddamn fantastic joke, _you told her it was safe!)_ Through his gas mask, the raspy hitches of his breathing sped into a staccato laughter. “Run or you’ll d i e, Chiaki, r un or y o u’l l DIE.”

He didn’t see if she ran. He didn’t see anything, after that.

\------------------

Chiaki stared in horror as her friend fell from the gunshot, as he came undone under the pressure of keeping her safe, and as he became unhinged.

"Fuyuhiko!" Chiaki made a move to follow him down and help -- she was able to snap him out of it before, she could do it again -- but was stopped by gunfire crawling from the ground up. Chiaki squeaked, scrambling to the side as the bullets crawled up the rubble and past her. The rioter below laughed, and she looked from Fuyuhiko to the now-gunsman. She stared, wide-eyed. She had just gotten used to feeling safe, which she honestly knew she _shouldn't,_ but...

Suddenly, Chiaki wished Hajime were here.

"Chiaki, _go!”_

Chiaki jumped as Peko shouted, red eyes focused on the combatant in front of her as she inched her way slowly backwards towards where Fuyuhiko lay bleeding onto the street. Another round of gunshots fired, and Chiaki sprang to her feet, running up the barricade and away from her friends. Her body moved on its own, clumsy feet stumbling down the other side of the rubble and away from the scene. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her body moving faster than she was used to even at her healthiest, breath raspy in the gas mask as she pushed her body past its limits for far longer than she should.

~~~~~~~

Chiaki didn't keep track of how long she ran, but she definitely couldn't hear the sound of fighting, or gunshots, or... any other noises that sounded like she was near her friends. She found her way into a back alley and took in long, drawn out breaths, repressing the urge to take off the mask to allow for breathing in a less claustrophobic way. Fuyuhiko would get mad. Especially if she lost the mask.

Chiaki froze, the abrupt thought of her friends causing her to realize what she had done: she abandoned Fuyuhiko and Peko.

_Again._

She slumped against the brick of the wall behind her, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly as the adrenaline finally started to wear off. Her breaths were still shaky, but the reasons why switched from physical to emotional. How could she _do_ that? Just... _leave_ them like that?! What kind of person just left their friends when they were in danger, especially when one of them was already hurt. She could've done... something? Anything! It's not like she couldn't fight; she had before. She knew she could. Why couldn't she have just...

Chiaki stopped for a moment and shook her head. She moved to smack her cheeks, only to have the palms of her hands roughly hit the outside of the gas mask. It stung her hands, but it had the desired effect; Chiaki knew she didn't have time to feel guilty now. Right now she needed to focus on surviving and getting back to Fuyuhiko and Peko. She could apologize for being a bad Class Rep then.

Chiaki exhaled, shoving herself off of the building wall and looking around outside the alleyway, before stepping out and walking in the direction she came from. She had to find Fuyuhiko and see if he was okay. She had to find Peko and see if she was hurt. And she had to ensure her own survival. She could do this.

~~~~~~~

Chiaki stood in front of a GameGet, staring at the damaged neon sign and pondered if she should enter.

She’d been walking for what felt like a couple hours now, aimless in direction but not drive. She hadn't really been paying much attention to where she came from, and was positive she had made at least _some_ wrong turns. It wasn't like she had a map or anything. Just her instincts and her sort of decent sense of direction, which was all but useless in this winding maze of trashed and often-impassable streets.

But a GameGet was familiar and safe. It might have food and water, or at least, vending machine junk food and crappy, off-brand soda. Heck, even if it had already been looted for those things, it'd be a good place to take a break before heading back out, mostly because people thought videogames were irrelevent during the apocalypse (for some reason), and the likelihood of someone else being here was pretty low.

Probably.

Chiaki nodded, quietly agreeing to her own plan as she reached out and opened the door.

There was someone else in here.

Both Chiaki and the other person paused, the latter turning around and looking up at her.

Chiaki saw a corpse, a smattering of blood on the ground and shelves of games, its fresh red gleaming briefly neon pink when the sign outside flickered and sparked, and the stranger -- Chiaki realized belatedly it was a child -- holding a very large knife also covered in the same pink.

"Mommy?"

"Nope." Chiaki immediately shut the door and ran, only getting a good ten feet away before she heard it open again behind her.

"MOMMY!"

~~~~~~~

Running, as it turned out, was not Chiaki's forte.

She pushed through the city anyway, already exhausted but sprinting as quickly as her legs could carry her -- which, it turned out, was surprisingly far in comparison to a small child with murderous intent. Making quick, panicky glances over her shoulder as she ran, Chiaki caught a few shaky glimpses of someone chasing after her through the empty streets, just a few blocks behind. Her adrenaline hadn't abated yet, the feeling of being followed not leaving her. Shouldn’t a little kid be falling behind by now? Maybe the murder-child was an Ultimate athlete? How was she...?

A quick plan. She turned down an alleyway, seeming to try and shake off the pursuer. She quickly grabbed a weapon -- a trash can lid, and held it aloft, waiting.

Footsteps quietly started to approach.

Chiaki swallowed air. Suddenly, a figure loomed over her -- way too tall to be the child she’d thought it was, but definitely _someone_ willing to follow her all over the city. She let out a shout as she swung the trash can lid upwards, the side of the lid clocking the stranger in the chin and causing them to squeal, stumble, and fall on their butt.

Chiaki moved forward quickly to knock them out, but heard a distinct voice crying, and stopped. She blinked, holding the trash can lid above her head stupidly as she found a familiar pink-haired classmate beneath her, covering his head and whimpering pathetically.

"Kazuichi?"

\------------------

The lid of a trash can clanged against his face, knocking all his good intentions to follow and secretly protect Chiaki out one ear and across the street somewhere, and then everything just kept ringing. Kazuichi hit the ground with a whimper and curled his arms around his poor, delicate skull. Chiaki was little, but she hit like a _bus._

His first instinct - to immediately fall ass-backwards into Despair high at the slightest hint of pain - hadn’t really been an option since one long, serious lecture… er, _talk_ he’d had with a girl who’d turned out disappointingly not to be a robot. And he’d been _really good_ about that, when he actually remembered to be. So, plan B it was, then. Copious whining.

“S-seriously? That’s… that’s totally not fair! What’d _I_ ever do to anybody??” Even his eyes were stinging, and he rocked back and forth in miserable protest. “Besides all the things I did to everybody, I mean, ‘cause nobody’s perfect, y’know, and I’ve been working _hard_ , and then you just go and _clock_ a guy like that, who didn’t even do anything-” Chiaki said his name, and Kazuichi trailed off, realizing suddenly that his cover was blown.

“Crap. You weren’t supposed to see me.”

\------------------

Chiaki stared as Kazuichi whined, realizing that yes, this was _definitely_ Kazuichi. She crouched down, her hands on her knees as she looked at her friend in confusion. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Why was I not supposed to see you?”

\------------------

Kazichi was now tenderly feeling out his chin, which was definitely gonna bruise. “‘Cause you don’t want me here!” he said, hissing slightly as he poked at the sore spot. “So, y’know, if you SAW me, you’d be mad! And you’d say something like, ‘Kazuichi, stop staking out Fuyuhiko’s house and sleeping in his topiaries, that’s weird and creepy,’ and then I’d still DO it, but I’d feel BAD about it.”

He realized that didn’t really answer her question, and added belatedly and a little sulkily, “Somebody’s gotta look after you.”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked again as Kazuichi mentioned sleeping in Fuyuhiko’s yard. Did Fuyuhiko know? Maybe she should talk to him about letting Kazuichi sleep inside. But she smiled when Kazuichi finally revealed his _actual_ reason for being here. He just wanted to keep her safe. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but… she did appreciate the thought.

“Kazuichi, I can take care of myself,” she said, resting her chin on her knees for a moment. She stood up again, straightening her skirt out before offering Kazuichi a hand to help him up. “Do you know where Fuyuhiko and Peko are? We can find them together, and I can ask Fuyuhiko to see if we can find you a place to sleep that has a bed.”

\------------------

“Okay, but clearly you can’t, ‘cause you’re wandering around Fuyuhiko’s death town being chased by, like, possessed five year olds,” said Kazuichi, taking her hand and nearly pulling her down in his own awkward attempt to stand up.

He looked around at the deserted, crumbling street. “And, uh, maybe we don’t go back to Fuyuhiko. Maybe Fuyuhiko just doesn’t find out I’m here.”

\------------------

Chiaki’s eyebrows furrowed again when Kazuichi mentioned not telling Fuyuhiko, or not going back to Fuyuhiko. “He’ll be worried, though.” Chiaki said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Peko will be too. It’s not fair to keep them waiting like that.”

“And I did get you with a trash can lid.” she pointed out, said lid laying by her feet. It had tasted pain now. It yearned for more. At least, that’s what it felt like to Chiaki. “I know how to fight too; you’ve seen me do it. I just didn’t want to fight someone who was armed.”

\------------------

Kazuichi edged away from the trash can lid, which was clearly thirsty for blood. “Yeah, I, uh, I got that. B-but I’m not just wasting my time here, you know!” He jabbed a finger at her, dramatically. “It’s exactly ‘cause you can fight that you need my help! You’re gonna get too overconfident! You need somebody to guard your back! Somebody maybe a little bit overly paranoid, who’s not gonna let their guard down just ‘cause everybody’s acting friendly!”

His shoulders slumped a bit. “I mean, Fuyuhiko’s dangerous. Peko too. There’s no way he’d be worried about you, he’s too busy enjoying the gunfight!” (Or he was dead, Kazuichi hadn’t actually stuck around to check before darting off after Chiaki. Probably better not to mention that, though.) “You could thank me for saving you from that five year old,” he muttered, realizing that it hadn’t been a particularly impressive thing to do after all, and that Chiaki had already sort of outrun the kid by the time he’d gotten there. But still! It definitely hadn’t been a waste of his time to follow her!

\------------------

Chiaki listened as Kazuichi made his case for following her around. Granted, he hadn’t really needed to -- she knew from experience that traveling alone was a bad idea. She wasn’t mad or anything like that, but sometimes just listening to Kazuichi was enough for him to feel better. So she did.

“Oh.” Chiaki had completely forgotten about thanking for… well, everything so far. “Thank you.” She reached up and gave Kazuichi two decisive pats on the head, his overly gelled hair bending against the pressure of her palm. “I appreciate you looking after me, Kazuichi. But I still think we should find Fuyuhiko. I think…” Chiaki paused for a moment. Kazuichi probably knew what was going on with Fuyuhiko now, if he knew about the gunfight. “He’s going to be okay. He just... wasn’t then. He’ll be better when we get back, I think.”

\------------------

The grin that split Kazuichi’s face at that small amount of praise was a sight to behold, mostly because his teeth were all filed to points. It slid off just as quickly, though, when Chiaki didn’t budge on the whole “returning to Fuyuhiko” front.

“Okay, but. Okay, BUT-” He reached into a pocket and fidgeted with one of his wrenches, eyes looking everywhere but at Chiaki. “You’re gonna give him The Speech, right? The speech about not being in Despair anymore? You’re… I mean, I guess you haven’t yet, because you’re not dead, but you’re gonna? He’s not gonna take that well. He’s really, _really_ not gonna take that well.”

\------------------

Chiaki thought for a moment. She was intending on giving Fuyuhiko "the Speech", as Kazuichi called it -- telling Fuyuhiko that Despair was bad, that he was hurting the world, that he was better than this and could fix it if he didn't let Despair win and focused on Hope instead. It had worked on Kazuichi really well; to the point where he started crying and apologizing, even. However, since her talk with Peko... Chiaki didn't want to risk getting her in trouble. It was a much more delicate situation.

"I'm playing this by ear, Kazuichi." Chiaki said, her expression having slipped into pensive. "Fuyuhiko is... complicated. It's different. Yeah, I'm going to talk to him, but I have to make sure stuff is okay to do first."

\------------------

“Oh, I don’t care about _that._ But if you give that speech to him…” Still fidgeting, Kazuichi rocked back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet, his voice squeaking a bit. “He’s gonna know that you gave that speech to _me.”_

\------------------

Chiaki gave Kazuichi a look of pure determination. "I won't let him hurt you."

\------------------

There was something immensely comforting about being protected by someone who could hit you that hard, even if she was 5’2”. Still, though! Kazuichi jabbed a finger at Chiaki, frustrated. “H-hey, wait! Don’t be getting our roles mixed up, I’m the one protecting YOU, remember? If he gets Peko, then you get me, right? That’s what I am! Like, your own personal Peko, except kind of useless in a fight!”

His shoulders slumped, but at least he’d stopped with the nervous fidgeting. “Look, I dunno why you ditched Izuru, but you’ve got me. I’m not scared of _Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu._ Say whatever you want to him, I’ll protect you.” It was a stupid thing to say, because she _shouldn’t_ and he _couldn’t,_ but Chiaki just looked so serious and determined that he’d blurted it out. Well, no going back on that now. Why the heck had she run off into the outside world without Izuru, anyway? The two of them had been joined at the hip since she’d woken up. Maybe they’d had a fight. Probably a sore spot for her. Probably shouldn’t pry.

“Uh, what went down between you and Izuru, anyway?” Probably should install some kind of filter between his brain and his mouth.

\------------------

Chiaki's serious expression softened into a smile as Kazuichi defended his honour and promised to be able to beat up Fuyuhiko -- probably in some sort of attempt to make sure Chiaki felt safe and protected around him instead of the other way around. Not that Chiaki would allow them to fight; classmates shouldn't fight each other.

However, when he asked about Hajime...

"I don’t think Hajime approved of me going out into the world to help you guys." Chiaki said, looking at the ground. "He kept saying that it was dangerous, and that I could get hurt, and..." _And that you're all dangerous now._ It was on the tip of her tongue, but she left it unsaid to spare Kazuichi's feelings. 

"I tried to talk to him about it. But he basically just refused to help. I couldn't wait forever for Hajime to come around, either. The longer I waited, the more destroyed the world became. So I left." Chiaki fidgeted with the bottom of her hoodie, her guilt at leaving Hajime behind evident in her expression. She hadn't wanted to, but she felt as though she didn't have a choice in the matter. Hajme would understand. Probably. At least, she hoped so.

\------------------

“Well yeah, I know you LEFT, it was my place you ditched,” Kazuichi muttered. He was accustomed to Izuru wandering off and disappearing for days or weeks at a time; rooming with him was less like having a _roommate_ and more like leaving food out for a stray cat that occasionally slept in your garage. But he’d gotten used to having Chiaki around. She wasn’t going anywhere, her legs had been atrophied from the coma, so she was always available to hang out, watch him work on his machines, just talk… the grimy old tunnel network under Hope’s Peak, full of dirt and scrap and the busted-up remains of execution machines, had seemed a little bit brighter with her around.

It had hurt a little, that she’d left as soon as she was healthy enough to. Not that he was gonna whine about it. He wasn’t the kind of person who _whined_ about things.

“Well, screw Izuru,” said Kazuichi, trying to sound cheerful, because behind her gas mask, Chiaki suddenly wasn’t. “He’s not the boss of you. You can go where you want. Like… this way!” He started walking in a random direction, toward where he thought Fuyuhiko might be. (Well, dang, guess he was really actually escorting her back to Fuyuhiko, then. No, it’d be fine. She wouldn’t say anything to get him in trouble. She’d promised.)

\------------------

“Yeah.” Chiaki smiled. She didn’t like Kazuichi saying bad things about Hajime, but she was pretty sure his heart was in the right place. She followed Kazuichi out of the alley and into the street, making sure to stick close behind him just in case.

Everything was going to be alright. Chiaki was sure of that.


	4. Because You're Not In Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were played by RedPen. You'll note that we've switched which writer handles Peko. That's because RedPen was accruing way too many characters, and because there are some scenes coming up eventually that were a lot more fun to write with two different people playing Peko and Fuyuhiko.

Peko wandered the city, sword at the ready. It had not taken much to defeat the assailants after Chiaki had left. A couple of swift blows, a moment or two for the Young Master to settle himself and receive medical attention, and she was off to look for her lost comrade. She knew, without a doubt, that Chiaki was alive. For her to come back after all this time, only to die under the Young Master’s care…

Chiaki could not die here.

So the hours ticked by as Peko searched, attempting to find safe havens that Chiaki might be hiding in. She did not need to harm anyone else, thankfully -- people in this city generally ran when they saw her approach, as was common sense at this point. However, Peko was beginning to wonder if Chiaki had somehow found a way back to the Young Master on her own. It wouldn't be the first time Chiaki blindsided her by showing up unexpectedly.

"Peko!"

Ah, speaking of --

Peko turned to see Chiaki trotting towards her, with one Kazuichi Soda trailing not far behind. Peko felt a weight she did not know she bore lift from her shoulders -- of course Chiaki was fine. Of course. She need not have worried; Chiaki could take care of herself. However, one was permitted to worry over the wellbeing of a... friend? Class representative? Fellow associate? Peko didn't have the emotional wherewithal to come up with an appropriate label for Chiaki's and her relationship at this time -- she was just glad Chiaki was safe. However...

"Kazuichi." Peko gazed past her friend, at the mechanic behind her. Chiaki slowed down as the two of them reached Peko, and Peko took in the scene with confusion. "Why are you in Nishi-Shinjuku? The Young Master and I were under the impression that you remained at Hope's Peak."

\------------------

“H-hey, don’t sound so disappointed to see me!” said Kazuichi. “I can go where I want. It’s my apocalypse too, y’know!”

Peko wasn’t the only one for whom a weight had lifted. Kazuichi felt immensely relieved that Fuyuhiko was nowhere in sight. He could make all his awkward explanations to Peko, and SHE could relay them to Fuyuhiko, and then he could be mad at HER. Provided he hadn’t died in the gunfight back there, which Kazuichi was pretty sure Peko’d be visibly upset about.

He put a hand on Chiaki’s shoulder, trying to look cool and protective. “She probably said, right? She was with me first. I wasn’t just gonna let her wander off and get herself killed in the Despair world! I followed her to take responsibility!” And if that sounded like he was implying that Fuyuhiko WASN’T taking responsibility, well, screw that guy, ‘cause he wasn’t.

\------------------

Peko stared at Kazuichi as he whined (which was normal) and as he stated something about keeping Chiaki safe and taking responsibility for her. (Less normal, but petulant enough to not raise suspicion... for now.) However...

"If you have been following Chiaki as you say, then you are aware that the Young Master has taken her into his care," Peko stated bluntly. She took a step forward, her sword still in hand. It wasn't a threat towards her fellow Remnant. It was just a coincidence, that Kazuichi was implying foolish things and Peko had her weapon already drawn. "Therefore, your protection is no longer needed."

\------------------

When Peko stepped forward, Kazuichi flinched back, putting Chiaki between the two of them, so Peko would have to kill her first. Peko did not kill anyone. She just… _dismissed_ him, and Kazuichi swallowed painfully, his fingers twitching on Chiaki’s shoulder. No longer _needed?_ After following her across half of Tokyo? After hiding out in Fuyuhiko’s bushes for weeks, dodging the perimeter guards and chewing at his fingernails because Chiaki had walked in and then never walked out again? No longer _needed?_

(Never needed to begin with, idiot.) said the rising rushing static at the back of his brain, the pleasure-beyond-pain that leapt so eagerly at his abandonment issues. (You think anyone honestly wants the help of the Worst Remnant? Nobody’s ever needed you but _Her._ )

\------------------

"Peko, Kazuichi actually helped me a lot while I was trying to get back to you,” Chiaki cut in quickly. “He saved me today, I think."

\------------------

Kazuichi let out a rush of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, as Chiaki stood up for him. That small amount of praise and acknowledgement made the static ebb, and he didn’t go under. (Crap, right, not allowed.)

\------------------

Peko blinked, nonplussed, at them both. As one of Sonia’s…. _allies_ , the fact that Kazuichi had decided to come into the Young Master’s territory was odd, to say the very least. Chiaki, of course, was oblivious to the intricacies and politics involved with all of this.

(Though… for all intents and purposes, Kazuichi was probably also oblivious.)

Peko let out a soft sigh and finally sheathed her sword. "We should head back to see the Young Master. I'm sure he is very worried about you, Chiaki. And he will want to see you as well, Kazuichi. It has been a long time since you and he last spoke, and I’m sure he would appreciate a report." Peko gave Kazuichi a look that made it obvious that this wasn’t a request.

\------------------

Peko was putting her sword away, and wow, he was really doing this, wasn’t he? He was really handing Chiaki back over to the head of the mafia. Well, as long as everybody was clear on whose JOB it was to look out for-

Kazuichi swallowed again, nearly choking on it. “R-report?”

\------------------

"The Young Master has been letting you do as you please since the end of the Killing Game." Peko stated with her usual frankness. "However, since you've obviously been away from your station, the Young Master will want to know what you've been doing.”

Peko didn't mention that this was a safety precaution -- even though he was essentially a non-threat to herself and the Young Master, Kazuichi was still a Remnant of Despair. He was still a dangerous entity, and would therefore be treated as such. This was an excuse for the Young Master to keep his eye on Kazuichi, so that while he was here, nothing of import would come to ruin by his hand.

Lest the Young Master have Peko remove certain rights from their classmate. Such as his fingers. 

\------------------

It wasn’t like Peko knew about the agreement between him and Chiaki - how Despair wasn’t allowed anymore. No more actively seeking pain for the high it gave him, no more building death machines, definitely no more breaking the world. He was supposed to be, like, reformed now, or whatever. If the other, not-so-reformed Remnants knew that, this definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant “hey how’ve you been, let’s catch up” type of conversation.

Still, something jumpy and paranoid in Kazuichi felt _accused_ of something, when Peko demanded a report on what he’d been doing. The static rushed back, and Chiaki was immediately forgotten. 

“My station?” Kazuichi shoved his way past her to get up into Peko’s face. “I don’t have a station! I haven’t had a station since She lost the killing game and got Herself pancaked! Which, um, you’re welcome for all the parts of Her I salvaged, yeah? Don’t go saying you’ve been letting me do whatever when it’s actually just that none of you give a crap!”

His wrench had found its way into his hand somehow, and he prodded Peko in the chest with it, some faraway part of him whimpering (she’s gonna kill you, man, back up) and being utterly ignored. “You want a report? Here’s my report! _I_ found _Chiaki.”_

\------------------

Peko watched with cold eyes as Kazuichi began to throw his tantrum, whipping out his wrench and pressing it against her chest. Her eyes narrowed -- she had always been under the impression that Kazuichi was foolish, and she was hesitant to do harm to her classmate, but if he wished to be humiliated like this...

~~~~~~~

This was bad.

The only thing Chiaki knew for a fact was that she didn't really understand what was going on. However, she knew a fight when she saw one, and if she let this continue --

"Kazuichi, stop!" Chiaki got in between him and Peko, grabbing the wrench and moving it (and his hand, still firmly holding it) away from the other girl. "You shouldn't fight, okay? It's bad, and you could both get hurt." She held onto the wrench firmly, making sure that Kazuichi was paying attention to her. "You're just trying to protect me, right? It's okay. Peko doesn't want to hurt me, and she probably doesn't want to hurt you either. So let's not fight."

\------------------

He actually… _really_ wanted Peko to wreck him, Kazuichi realized, because he hadn’t had a proper Despair high in weeks, and his chin still stung from where Chiaki had hit him with a trash can lid, and there was something _immensely appealing_ about being whacked right across that bruise with the flat of a sword so hard that his jaw dislocated. And they’d talked about this; that was definitely not allowed.

Kazuichi made a frustrated noise and yanked the wrench out of Chiaki’s hand, stowing it sullenly back in one of his deep pockets. “I’m not picking a fight. Just making my report. I’ve been doing stuff. Tons of stuff. Wrecking the world just as much as everybody else, I dunno why you wanna _interrogate_ me about it.”

\------------------

Chiaki pouted as Kazuichi snatched his wrench away, stuffing it into his pocket and acting like he wasn't just trying to put Peko on the defensive. She let out a soft sigh, the tension seeming to at least lessen as Kazuichi mumbled.

"It is not my place to receive your report, Kazuichi."

Chiaki looked up at Peko, who was looking back and forth from Chiaki to Kazuichi with a small degree of concern. "You will need to discuss your… _stuff._ With the Young Master."

"We can talk about it with Fuyuhiko." Chiaki said, reaching out and patting Kazuichi on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort her sulking friend. "Together. Okay?"

\------------------

“Just as long as nobody talks about anything anybody shouldn’t talk about,” Kazuichi muttered, utterly uncaring that Peko was right there listening in. It’s not like she knew what he meant. “I’ll tell him whatever he wants, y’know? I’ve been working hard. He wanted me to do something different, he should have said.”

Peko was giving him a… weird look. Probably time to change the subject. “So, uh, he’s definitely not dead, huh? I mean, yeah, obviously, but… er, how is he?”

\------------------

Chiaki tilted her head curiously as Kazuichi asked about Fuyuhiko’s condition. Peko looked somber and ashamed, her body tense as she answered: "He was injured, but he is being treated as we speak. Fortunately, he was not harmed in a way that would cause permanent damage."

Chiaki relaxed at that. That had been one thing she was worried about; Fuyuhiko being badly hurt. He already had something wrong with his eye, and Chiaki already felt bad about abandoning them earlier, too. It’d be pretty bad if something had happened that gave him another permanent injury on top of that. "I'm sorry he got hurt, but... I'm glad he'll be okay."

Peko gave Chiaki a small, relieved smile of her own. "As am I, Chiaki." She then looked at Kazuichi and tensed again, her emotions masked as her expression slipped into something akin to neutral. "We should go back now. The Young Master is expecting us."

\------------------

The car wasn’t totaled. That was one sliver of good news in the otherwise PHENOMENALLY TERRIBLE day Fuyuhiko was having. Sure, there were a lot of bullet holes, and most of the windows were smashed, but the engine was fine, and that was some small comfort as he lay across a back seat glistening with broken glass, a woman in a black suit propping up his head in her lap and holding a belt firmly between his teeth while another man at last pulled the bullet from his shoulder and doused the wound in something firey and alcoholic from the limo’s miraculously unscathed minifridge. Though he nearly bit through the belt, Fuyuhiko did not so much as whimper; he’d survived worse.

The Kuzuryu Clan lackeys who’d come running from the government building down the road at the sound of gunfire were now milling around the area, checking the bodies and identifying them on Fuyuhiko’s request, so that the appropriate payback could be dished out to their friends and relatives. They’d secured the area enough for him to send Peko off after Chiaki. Sure, that left him injured and unguarded and surrounded by about twenty people whose loyalty he couldn’t be certain of, but controlling a situation like this was all about attitude.

Fuyuhiko spat the belt out as a man approached to report, and propped himself up as much as he could on one elbow, fixing the man with a cool look and ignoring the wound being bandaged at his side. “Alright, what the fuck happened here. Streets were supposed to be clear today.”

“Easier said than done, boss. Too many alleys, too many buildings for troublemakers to hide in. We thought we’d secured the route. They must have-”

Fuyuhiko’s pistol made a neat little hole straight through his forehead. “Didn’t ask for a fuckin’ excuse,” he said coldly as the body slumped to the side. None of the other yakuza even looked up from what they were doing. A tug at Fuyuhiko’s side told him the bandages were secure, and he shrugged off the two people treating him and pulled himself out of the limo. (Trying not to look like he was leaning too heavily on the door, because they all knew exactly how much blood he’d lost but by god he wasn’t going to telegraph how dizzy that made him.) There was a lot of movement going on with the perimeter guards, none of it hostile, which meant either Chiaki or Peko. Fuyuhiko set off in that direction, coldly refusing several people’s attempts to offer him an arm to lean on. (God, he must look like shit right now.)

Sure enough, Peko was making her way between the guards, Chiaki trailing behind her. Fuyuhiko grinned as he walked up to meet her, more than a little relieved. “See, I fuckin’ told you she couldn’t have gotten too far. Good work.” The grin slid away as he noticed Kazuichi following sullenly in the background. “Also, what the hell?”

“Nice to see you too, man,” Kazuichi grumbled.

\------------------

Chiaki saw Fuyuhiko in the distance, hobbling over to the three of them and looking absolutely awful. Chiaki frowned worriedly as Fuyuhiko smiled at them, Peko bowing in response to him acknowledging her work. He followed it up with a look of what she assumed was confusion when he saw Kazuichi, though, which ended up confusing _her._ Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were friends, weren’t they? Was it really that weird for them to visit each other once in a while?

"Kazuichi helped me out while we were separated." Chiaki explained quickly, as if Kazuichi being there wasn't weird at all. "He saved me from someone who came at me with a knife." She casually left out the part where she beamed Kazuichi in the face with the lid of a trash can -- if anything, she could help him save face in that way.

\------------------

Chiaki didn’t seem to realize exactly how… MUCH was packed into that calm little statement. Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure where to start - with Kazuichi randomly showing up miles away from where he was supposed to be, with Kazuichi showing up _conveniently_ just in time to rescue her, with Kazuichi rescuing her from a person _with a knife._ He stared wordlessly for a moment.

“Okay. Okay, got that, thanks Chiaki.” Fuyuhiko nodded blankly to Chiaki and then turned suddenly and furiously on Kazuichi. “You fucking _stalker pervert freak.”_

“H-hey now,” said Kazuichi, raising his hands defensively and stumbling backwards.

“You followed her! You fuckin’ stalked her all the way to my house! What the _fuck,_ Kazuichi?!”

“You don’t know that I followed her!” Kazuichi stammered. “Maybe I just, y’know, happened to be in the area?”

“You’re _Sonia’s_ fuckin’ lackey, why the fuck else would you be in MY territory?”

“I saved her life!!” Kazuichi said, his voice breaking into a faint whine. “There was this five year old, and if I hadn’t been there-”

“And I bet you never would have shown yourself if her life hadn’t needed saving, yeah?” said Fuyuhiko, lividly, waving his pistol in a wide arc. “You would have just kept creeping around!! Did you watch us leave the house? Were you HIDING in my FUCKING BUSHES??”

Kazuichi made an unidentifiable noise in the back of his throat.

\------------------

"He wasn't hiding in your bushes." Chiaki responded quickly, while attempting to lighten the mood. Instead of cracking a joke, though, she ended up word vomiting: "He was hiding in your topiaries."

Peko looked incredulously at Chiaki before turning to glare at Kazuichi -- how _dare_ he invade the Young Master's private home?! Her hand reached to the hilt of her blade, loosening it slightly from its sheath with an audible _click._

\------------------

The whining in Kazuichi’s throat went up an octave. The disbelieving look he shot Chiaki was the face of utter betrayal.

“OH MY GOD,” said Fuyuhiko, jabbing the gun at him.

“Th-they’re fine, I didn’t mess them up or anything-“

“You’re seriously gonna defend yourself over the topiaries? You think the _topiaries_ are what I’m mad about??” The pistol pressed itself into the hollow of Kazuichi’s throat, just under his chin. Kazuichi yelped and jerked backwards.

“OUCH man, you just shot that thing, it’s still hot!”

“It’s about to get hotter. Why the _hell_ are you here?”

\------------------

Chiaki winced as the argument got worse and louder in response to her mistake. She reached out for the gun, making a grab at it in hopes of pointing it anywhere but at Kazuichi’s face. (Also, where did he even get a gun? Guns were _illegal_ in Japan!)

\------------------

Fuyuhiko’s protective instincts kicked in immediately, and he jerked the gun out of Chiaki’s reach before she could touch it. It had the desired effect of aiming it away from Kazuichi, who sagged a little, his face pale. “Chiaki, holy shit, you can’t just grab a gun out of somebody’s hands like that! It’s dangerous!”

Wait, no, now was not the time to get distracted by gun safety.

“I can go where I want, right?” Kazuichi was muttering under his breath. “‘s not _your_ city. I mean, okay, it _is_ , but I don’t see your name on it.”

\------------------

Chiaki had the decency to look sheepish about grabbing at the gun. “Sorry. But I don't want you guys to fight." she said. Her eyes darted between the two boys and Peko, the situation still tense. "Kazuichi said he wanted to keep me safe, and he did. So it's okay. I think."

“That doesn’t excuse a disregard of proper gun safety, Chiaki.” Peko said calmly. “One must be cautious around weapons of any sort.” She ignored Kazuichi, mentally categorizing him as a non-threat, for now. If the mechanic had any semblance of self-preservation he wouldn't move, especially now that weapons were drawn.

\------------------

“He’s not-” Fuyuhiko took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing the gun to hang harmlessly at his side. “He’s lying to you, Chiaki. I’m sorry. I don’t know what he’s after, but he’s not here to protect you.”

“Oh, so YOU take one look at her and decide you’ll defend her to the death, but when _I_ do it it’s out of character and weird?” Kazuichi grumbled, rubbing at the bruise on his chin again and giving Fuyuhiko a dark look. The air between them seemed to crackle with hostility. “She’s my class rep too, y’know.”

“Well great news! You’re off the hook! She’s with me now! Go the fuck home!” said Fuyuhiko, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“YOU’RE THE ONE I’M PROTECTING HER FROM!!” Kazuichi shouted.

There was a moment of utter silence. The other yakuza were staring. Kazuichi’s expression slowly went from aggressive to mortified. “I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Fuyuhiko, emotionlessly. “Yeah, okay. What the fuck do you mean, exactly, Kazuichi? Please. Enlighten us on what you mean.”

\------------------

Chiaki's eyes widened at Kazuichi’s shout. She knew that Hajime considered Fuyuhiko to be dangerous. Chiaki knew he was dangerous too. She wasn’t stupid; even without Despair, Fuyuhiko was in the yakuza. But she hadn’t realized that _Kazuichi_ would think of him as dangerous. They were friends, weren't they? Until recently, they’d been destroying the world together. Didn’t that mean they trusted each other? That's what friends did, right?

Then Chiaki remembered a couple of different things at once:

One - Kazuichi was no longer in Despair, which was a good thing. Two - Fuyuhiko was definitely still in Despair, which wasn’t a good thing but... it was a work in progress. Three - If Fuyuhiko found out that Kazuichi wasn’t in Despair anymore, it would _definitely_ not be a good thing for Kazuichi.

Fuyuhiko got his Despair from hurting the people he cared about.

"Uhm..." Chiaki piped up hesitantly. She couldn't let the two of them keep fighting like this, so she did the only thing she could: distract. "Is... is it because I'm not in Despair?" Chiaki looked at the ground, fidgeting with the bottom of her jacket. "Hajime said people can usually tell when someone isn't... and that they don't like it much. I mean, I've had a lot of people try to attack me while trying to find you guys, and..."

Chiaki bit her lip, her hands balling into fists around the hem of her jacket. She hadn't talked about her time away from them much, and... the Despair world was _scary,_ okay?

"Chiaki." Chiaki raised her eyes to Peko, who was looking back at her with a soft expression -- at least, as soft as Peko could be right now. It was good to be reminded that Peko was an ally, even if she couldn’t say anything publicly. Chiaki took a deep breath and continued, unclenching her fists while forcing herself to relax.

"No one's going to hurt me, okay?" Chiaki finished, flexing her muscle and recreating a "Rosie the Riveter" pose. She could've sworn she heard a little bit of chuckling from the yakuza in the background, but Chiaki didn't pay it any mind. "I can protect myself!"

\------------------

“No you can’t!” said Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi, simultaneously, and then glared at each other as if the other person was somehow at fault for agreeing with them.

“You can’t, Chiaki,” said Fuyuhiko again, while Kazuichi slunk backwards slightly and took a sullen interest in the asphalt between his shoes. “It’s not that you’re weak, it’s not that you can’t handle yourself, it’s just, the world out here is dangerous, and-” 

“Yeah,” said Kazuichi, to the ground. “It’s ‘cause you’re not in Despair.”

Fuyuhiko whacked him hard with the butt of the pistol. Kazuichi yelped again.

“You hypocrite! That’s it, isn’t it?” Fuyuhiko snapped, eye going wide and livid with sudden realization. “That’s why you followed her! She woke up in your tunnels all helpless and naive and still clinging to Hope, and you just couldn’t resist wanting to break her, could you?”

“Man, no, that’s not-” Kazuichi began, and was talked over.

“You’ve been stalking her and waiting for your chance to off her this whole time, haven’t you? You probably would have, by now, if she hadn’t been holed up in my house!”

“No, I-”

“Don’t you fuckin’ project that on me! Some of us have some goddamn self control!”

“Man, shut up!!” Kazuichi shouted over him, his voice high pitched and breaking. Fuyuhiko shut up, if only out of respect for the sheer audacity of that. “Y-yeah, I followed her! And yeah, I slept in your bushes and yeah I’ve been watching your house and YEAH I even followed you guys out here, ‘cause… ‘cause…”

He flexed his fingers, curling and uncurling his fists. Rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, bit his lip between filed teeth. It occurred to Fuyuhiko that Kazuichi was being significantly more of a twitchy, nervous wreck than usual, and he tightened his grip on the pistol and shot a silent glance over to Peko. (Just be ready.)

Kazuichi took a deep breath, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and wailed, “…’cause she’s not in Despair, and Izuru Kamukura thought you were gonna kill her, and he MADE ME!!”

\------------------

“He sent you?” Chiaki said quietly, into the echoing silence that followed Kazuichi’s confession.

It was a lot to take in, and she needed a moment to process it. She was pretty sure that Hajime hadn’t wanted her to leave, but he’d also been pretty adamant that he wasn’t going to waste any energy following her or protecting her if she did. If he’d ordered Kazuichi to keep an eye on her instead, it sort of made sense, but… it hurt, knowing that Kazuichi hadn’t wanted to help her on his own.

It also hurt that not only Hajime, but both Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko thought she couldn’t take care of herself. It’s not like she hadn’t been warned about the state of the world. It’s not like she hadn’t survived in it by herself already. She could do things on her own! She scavenged! She hid from people! And she didn’t need to (until she clocked Kazuichi in the face) but she could fight! Everyone here knew that. They’d seen her do it before!

She knew it was because they were concerned about her, but it stung that all of her friends seemed to not have any faith in her abilities at all.

However, Chiaki decided that now was probably not the time to address that hurt. Things were tense right now -- she could take her frustration out in her copy of Pokemon Yellow when they got home. 

For now, she’d focus on what everyone else was focused on -- the name drop. Izuru Kamukura.

\------------------

“Izuru sent you?” said Fuyuhiko, echoing Chiaki. His voice was blank, his rage drowned out by a sort of stunned confusion. It wasn’t unmerited. Izuru may have been the leader of the Remnants in a technical sense - because Junko Enoshima was dead, and he’d been her second in command - but he didn’t give _orders._ Despair bored him, and so did the Remnants. He didn’t bother to show up on the rare occasions that they all gathered together. He tended to disappear for months at a time, neither helping nor hindering them, letting them burn the world as they saw fit.

“You’re here on orders from Izuru Kamukura? _You’re_ here on orders from _Izuru fucking Kamukura?”_

Kazuichi peeked out from under the hat for a moment, and then flinched and pulled it down again when he saw everyone looking at him. He’d wanted to let Chiaki think he was here of his own volition; take all the credit. Coming to someone’s rescue because you’d been bullied into it was significantly less cool. “You don’t gotta say it like it’s weird that it was me, y’know,” he mumbled defensively.

\------------------

Peko's eyes were wide, and her hand gripping the hilt of her sword went tighter as a subconscious reaction to her confusion. She couldn’t say anything in front of the Young Master, but she was side-eyeing Chiaki incredulously. They were comrades now, united in an incredibly dangerous cause, but Peko suddenly felt like she hadn’t been given the whole story. 

Did Chiaki still trust her so little as to not provide her with information this important and valuable? Was Chiaki _also_ here on orders from Izuru Kamukura? Was this some sort of trap or test set by him, bored out of his mind, to see if Fuyuhiko would last? Were they all just being used for entertainment? (Was he watching them all at this very moment, waiting to see their reactions?)

The look Chiaki returned was conflicted. She hadn’t meant to hide this from anyone, but she couldn’t deny that she’d definitely avoided talking about it, and had let Fuyuhiko and Peko assume some things that weren’t true. It wasn’t like it was a _secret,_ that the person she called Hajime was the person they called Izuru Kamukura. It was just...

Talking about all of that was complicated. And tended to bring up a lot of emotions that she didn’t really have time to think about or deal with right now. Nor did she want Fuyuhiko or Peko to deal with them for her; they had other things to worry about. She hadn’t expected it to be such a big deal. She’d seen Kazuichi interact with Izuru, and the two of them were pretty relaxed and informal around each other - like normal roommates who were used to sharing a space.

Judging by everyone else’s reactions, though, she definitely should have brought it up. _Oops._

\------------------

“Why the hell does he think I’d kill her?” said Fuyuhiko, incredulously. The gun was still slack at his side, his aggression vanished. He didn’t seem insulted by it, just… baffled.

“Okay, so,” Kazuichi at last pulled his hat up again and stuck his hands deeply into his pockets, finding some tool to fidget with while he rocked on his feet again. “Okay, SO, don’t be mad, and these are Izuru’s words and not mine, and he ORDERED me, man, you know I had to-”

“Holy shit, can you answer the fucking question.”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Well. Izuru kind of thought you’d… y’know.” His hand fiddled with the wrench he’d found, rolling the worm screw back and forth, back and forth with a little squeaking sound. (Maybe if he worded this _really poorly_ Fuyuhiko would shoot him in the kneecap or something. Nope, nope, not allowed, focus.) “He thought you’d see it as a chance to break someone you like and get some grade A Despair out of it. I mean, he’s not wrong, right? You’ve probably thought about it. We’d all at least think it. It’d be…” The screw squeaked, back and forth, faster. “…it’d be some _really_ good Despair. Nobody’d blame you for _thinking_ it.” (A clean shot, right through his kneecap, a minute of howling and writhing on the ground, and then blissful, rapturous pleasure. No, she’d totally blame you for thinking it, focus.)

“I mean, I’m not saying you’d do it!” Kazuichi stammered, his words running together. “I’m just following orders!”

“Okay, better question. Why does he _care_ if I kill her?” said Fuyuhiko, hitting upon the second pertinent question. Kazuichi’s eyes flickered to Chiaki, realizing that he might have just blurted out a pretty big secret. Was that not, like, public yet? Had she not told him?

\------------------

Welp. Best to clear the air and get it over with. “I already told you.” Chiaki piped up, answering Fuyuhiko’s question. “Hajime was the person who took care of me while I was in a coma. He… has a bunch of different talents now. Hope’s Peak… well, he has them now.” Chiaki looked away from everyone, finding her shoes interesting all of a sudden as she was stared at.

“He said he was the only one who could’ve kept me from dying after the injuries I got from… uhm.” She didn’t finish her sentence, but she continued on as though she had. They knew what she was talking about anyway. Probably. “He said he goes by Izuru now, but he lets me call him Hajime, so… I guess I forgot to tell you about that part.”

Peko continued to stare at Chiaki, her shock not ebbing in the slightest. There was no way Chiaki hadn’t thought to mention that to them, was there? Did she not realize how pertinent this information was? 

\------------------

“That’s… a hell of a thing to forget, Chiaki,” said Fuyuhiko, his expression utterly unreadable.

“Hey, hey, hey, but maybe she was confused, right?” said Kazuichi, jumping in quickly, the only person in the group who’d already known about Chiaki and Izuru’s weird, tragic history. He was so used to it by this point that he’d considered it a non-issue. “She’s been out of it for a long time, so maybe she… uh... didn’t know he was one of us, y’know? Maybe he never told her who he was.” He’d absolutely told her who he was. Kazuichi had been there for that, eating popcorn in the background. “I mean, probably he thought it was boring to explain it to her? And, like, turns out she knew his… uh… body? Donor? So she probably just assumed-”

“Why does he care, Chiaki?” said Fuyuhiko, ignoring him completely, simply repeating his question. His voice was so eerily calm, so unlike Fuyuhiko’s usual rage, that it sent a shiver down Kazuichi’s spine. “He doesn’t care about anything. What’s so special about you? Why the hell did he save your life, down there in the maze? Why’s he sending you bodyguards now? Why’s he want you alive?”

(Because, albeit without the same context, Fuyuhiko had come to the same conclusion that Peko had. Izuru was playing games with them.)

\------------------

Chiaki frowned in confusion. “Because… he wants me safe?” she said cautiously. She still wasn’t one hundred percent sure why this was such a big deal, though being asked ‘why are you so special’ so bluntly from a friend hurt her feelings a little. “Hajime and I are friends.”

\------------------

“Fuck, Chiaki,” Fuyuhiko breathed, his shoulders sagging. “You don’t even know you’re a fuckin’ pawn, do you? When I asked you at the beginning who sent you, I couldn’t have guessed in a million years it would be him. Makes sense, though. Izuru does some crazy shit when he’s bored.”

\------------------

Chiaki wasn’t sure whether to snicker at the comment about Hajime (Because it was true. Kazuichi hadn’t come up with the Monokuma Races by himself, after all.) or be offended at the fact that Fuyuhiko thought that she was a pawn in Hajime’s plans. 

“Hajime wouldn’t _do_ that.” There was a pause for a moment, before Chiaki corrected herself. “Okay, so he might, but he _didn’t_. I left all on my own. Hajime didn’t ask me or send me to do anything. I’m not his pawn, he isn’t _using_ me. He actually told me _not_ to go. He told me you were dangerous, and that what I wanted to do was ‘statistically unlikely to be possible’, but you’re my classmates I care about you guys and… and…”

She was rambling and tense by the end of that little speech, but at last her shoulders slumped, settling with resignation into the decision she’d already come to a long time ago. “And it’s my fault this happened to you all. I need to fix it.”

\------------------

“I already told you, it’s not your fault-” Fuyuhiko began automatically, but then his brain caught up to his mouth and he trailed off in confusion. “...what do you mean, fix it?”

\------------------

Oh. _Shoot._ Chiaki hadn’t meant to say that, especially out in public where a bunch of people could hear them talking about it. She’d _promised_ Kazuichi that she _wouldn’t_ talk about this yet, that she’d wait until she knew it’d be safe for him. She stared at Fuyuhiko like a deer in the headlights for a moment, before looking down at her shoes and gently scuffing the asphalt with her foot, pretending to be fascinated by the look of the red light against the now mud-brown of her shoes. 

“Fix… Despair.” Chiaki said, loud enough to be heard but quietly enough for it to hopefully be at least kind of private. “Fix _your_ Despair.”

\------------------

Panic shot suddenly through Kazuichi. Welling up in his head with a buzzing white noise of static, drowning out everything else, pins and needles against his brain.

She was gonna tell him. She was gonna _tell him,_ right after she’d _promised_ not to tell him. A faint, breathy whine wheedled its way out of Kazuichi as Chiaki started confessing, and his hand had a tight grip on the wrench in his pocket and maybe, maybe if he struck her with it before she could finish the sentence, as hard as he could, splattered her blood across the asphalt- no, he had orders, no, he’d promised her he’d quit doing stuff like that, _no,_ Fuyuhiko was going to _kill him-_

Fuyuhiko caught Kazuichi’s movement out of the corner of his eye, and reacted with impressive speed, launching himself forward to grab Kazuichi’s arm before the wrench finished its swing into Chiaki’s forehead. His pistol clattered to the ground.

“Kazuichi what the _FUCK?!!_ Peko! Peko, grab him, fuck-”

Kazuichi, wild-eyed, was trying to tear himself out of Fuyuhiko’s grip, so Fuyuhiko couldn’t really focus on how Chiaki was reacting to this, but he amended, “Wait fuck, no, I got him, grab Chiaki, don’t let her run. KAZUICHI SODA!! FUCKING HELL, WOULD YOU STOP?!!” This in response to Kazuichi’s attempt to pull out a different wrench with his other hand, and continue coming at Chiaki with it. Fuyuhiko caught that one too. Sure he’d just lost a lot of blood, but Kazuichi couldn’t fight for shit.

\------------------

Peko had instinctively twitched forward when Kazuichi lunged at Chiaki with a wrench - an obvious threat, resonating in her mind as _aggressive, hostile, danger,_ not aimed at the Young Master, but far too close to him. That twitch turned smoothly into a legitimate attack as soon as Fuyuhiko gave the order, only to pause at her master’s confused jumble of conflicting instructions.

The Young Master stopped Kazuichi, ordering Peko to grab Chiaki and prevent her from leaving. She quickly did so, stepping back and grabbing Chiaki, pulling her away from the tussle but keeping on guard in case things somehow went south, her other hand still hovering near her sword. The probability was low, logically, but in a fight anything could happen.

Chiaki seemed shocked into silence. She was easily manhandled by Peko, stumbling a little as she was pulled back. Peko was also surprised at Chiaki revealing her hand so soon, but from her body language and reactions it had seemed like an accident. A careless slip of the tongue was enough to get them both killed, but Peko didn’t have time to worry about that. She had been given an order.

Around them, Fuyuhiko’s men had all frozen in their tasks, staring at the struggle that had broken out between two Remnants of Despair, and seeming very, very reluctant to get involved in it. Normally, they would have leapt to defend their oyabun, but Kazuichi was another Remnant. This was beyond them.

“Your orders haven’t changed,” Peko instructed them coldly, looking to the side at some of the men who were gawking. “Move along.” They scrambled to get back to work, pretending not to see the undignified scuffle, even as they continued to watch out of the corners of their eyes.

\------------------

It wasn’t really a fight so much as a lot of awkward grabbing and leaning. Fuyuhiko was twisting Kazuichi’s wrists backwards in an attempt to make him drop the wrenches, but it wasn’t having much of an effect. Fuyuhiko’s right arm was strangely weak, pain racing along it in time with his heartbeat as their struggle pulled at the muscles around the bullet wound. Right now, he was running on enough adrenaline to ignore it. 

“She said-” Kazuichi gasped, breathlessly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I heard her, I know what she said,” Fuyuhiko answered him sharply. “You need to calm the fuck down. You can’t just _immediately murder her_ because she said she wants to cure your Despair, that’s not how we’re gonna handle this.”

His mind was racing. This explained, well, everything. Chiaki was seeking them out to “fix” them, because she blamed herself, because she thought true Despair was something she could somehow undo. She wasn’t just here because she missed them. She was driven by something tantalizingly close to Despair herself: guilt, desperation, delusion. Hell, it probably wouldn’t take much of a push to turn her into something like the rest of them. Was _that_ what Izuru wanted? To find entertainment in seeing how long it took before her determination became Despair?

Fuyuhiko thought he understood. Izuru wasn’t testing them. He was testing _her._

Kazuichi tried to pull his arms free again, and Fuyuhiko kicked him roughly in the shin. “She’s not a threat, dipshit. She can’t actually do it.” He hissed the words, suddenly realizing that he didn’t want Chiaki to hear them. Whatever the hell Izuru wanted, _he’d_ already decided that he wasn’t gonna be the one to break Chiaki Nanami. Screw Izuru and his plans.

Kazuichi went a little limp. “Yeah,” he panted. “Yeah, she can’t. Yeah.”

\------------------

Peko’s eyes were narrow and focused as the Young Master calmed Kazuichi down, occasionally glancing to the side to gauge Chiaki’s reaction. She seemed… stable, though her gaze didn’t move from the scene in front of her.

"Chiaki." The girl in question peeked up at Peko briefly, before worriedly looking back at the two boys a few feet away from them. "You are safe here. We will not allow any harm to come to you."

Chiaki nodded, keeping her eyes on Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi’s fight as it slowly lost steam and petered out. She knew that. She had always known that. Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, Peko, Hajime... none of them would hurt her. Not on purpose. Not even Teruteru had wanted to hurt her on _purpose_ \-- she had just run into him on a bad day. "I know."

Fuyuhiko whispered something to Kazuichi that seemed to calm him down a bit, and that made Chiaki relax. She figured why Kazuichi freaked out, but... she had hoped he would have trusted her a bit more. No matter what she told Fuyuhiko about her motives, she wasn’t going to say anything about Kazuichi or Peko. She knew it was dangerous to bring them up in this conversation.

Chiaki called out to the boys as Kazuichi sagged and stopped struggling. "Are you guys okay? I'm sorry if I freaked you out."

\------------------

“Get in the car,” Fuyuhiko growled at Kazuichi, jerking his head sharply in the limo’s direction. “Make yourself useful and brush some glass off the seats, I’ll deal with you later.” He let go of Kazuichi’s hands, and Kazuichi, with one last wide-eyed look to Chiaki, ran to obey. Fuyuhiko turned to look at her and Peko.

“Hey. Yeah. He’s fine. He’s just a jumpy little shit, I’ll… talk to him for you.” He swayed slightly, the physical exertion finally catching up to him as adrenaline drained away, and he reached out and put a hand on Peko’s shoulder to steady himself without making it look like he was steadying himself. “Are _you_?”

\------------------

“I’m fine.” Chiaki immediately replied, not wanting her friends to worry about her more than they already were. She had dealt with worse; someone coming at her with a wrench wasn’t all that scary anymore. She watched Kazuichi leave with a worried expression before focusing on the people in front of her. “Are… you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.”

Peko stood firm as her Master leaned on her. Her arm instinctively moved to hold him as he swayed, ensuring that he was able to stand steady in front of his men. Her brow furrowed -- she knew that her Young Master was safe, but he still needed rest. However, it wasn’t her place to say, so her concerns stayed inside.

\------------------

“I’m fine. Had worse, don’t worry about it,” Fuyuhiko said shortly, brushing off her concerns. “As for your whole… fixing it thing… we’ll talk about it back at the house.” He tried to look calm, understanding, nonthreatening, and was aware that it was a look he wasn’t particularly good at. “Just talk. You don’t have to apologize, you’re not in trouble. We should just… talk.”

He would have to encourage her, he realized. He couldn’t let her Despair, even if it meant playing along with her little curing-their-Despair game. At this point, it was as much to spite Izuru as anything else. As long as Chiaki thought she was making progress, as long as she didn’t realize her task was futile, she’d keep her spirits up. He’d have to let Peko in on it later. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

(It wasn’t like him to say it, but he was.)

She reacted to that by blurring at the edges, wavering strangely before splitting in two. (Huh, that’s weird,) thought Fuyuhiko, and then Peko caught him as he fell.

He awoke in his own bed, several hours later. (Oh. Okay. Well, goddamn it.)


	5. Nothing Happens To Fuyuhiko's Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Peko and Chiaki were played by Blueflame91, and Kazuichi was played by RedPen.

It was sometime around midnight when Kazuichi Soda at last determined his emergency surgery on Fuyuhiko’s limo a success, and wandered into the house, leaving a trail of greasy footprints across Fuyuhiko’s expensive carpets. Nobody had exactly ASKED him to fix the car, but screw it. It had been a stressful day, he deserved to dig around a bit in the guts of something mechanical. And now Fuyuhiko sort of owed him a favor, which he could pay back by not being mad about the carpet.

The bodyguards at the door did nothing to stop him, which probably meant that despite Fuyuhiko having been unconscious since he got here, Peko or somebody had said something to them, and he was officially allowed inside now. Or maybe it was just because he was another Remnant. Important. Higher up on the food chain than them. Possibly entitled to give them orders? Proooobably best not to test that. Hey, speaking of the food chain… as he wandered through the empty entryway, his stomach complained loudly that he’d eaten nothing the day before.

Well, if he was allowed inside the house, he was DEFINITELY allowed inside the kitchen, right?

It didn’t take long to find, huge and dark and empty, and a cold, bright shaft of light cut across sterile granite countertops as he browsed through the refrigerator, smearing more greasy, oily handprints across the stainless steel. He edged the door closed with his foot, arms full of food.

And then nearly overbalanced and lost that armful of food at the shadowy figure standing in the doorway, watching him with glowing red eyes.

“AH! H-hey! Peko!” A jar of pickles smashed against the tile. “I’ll clean that up! I- okay, nope there goes… there goes more of it, yeah, okay.” Now surrounded by a halo of broken glass and plastic tupperware and spilled food, Kazuichi gave up and dumped the rest of his haul on the countertop in an undignified heap, suddenly painfully aware of the trail of footprints leading in through the doorway from where she stood. He could not make out her expression in the darkness, but it _proooobably_ was not an approving one.

“I will. Uh. DEFINITELY clean this all up.”

\------------------

Peko’s eyes narrowed as Kazuichi bumbled around the kitchen, making an absolute fool of himself as he dropped seemingly at least half of the food at the Kuzuryu’s disposal. He seemed to feel bad about the destruction he was causing -- or at least, he was putting up a very good act so that she didn’t knock him down a peg. Or a leg. 

Granted, Peko had a feeling that Kazuichi wasn’t _smart_ enough to pretend to feel bad when he didn’t.

“Perhaps you should leave the cooking to the chefs here.” Peko stated plainly, her expression carefully neutral. She may not like Kazuichi much, but until the Young Master awoke he was a guest here. As such, she did have to treat him with _some_ respect, at the very least. “If you require food, I shall have some prepared. In the meantime, it would perhaps be in your best interest to clean up a bit before the Young Master awakens.”

\------------------

Oh! Good! Okay! So she wasn’t immediately livid, which meant he was basically off the hook. Kazuichi grinned at her nervously, the fridge door still open just enough for a crack of white light to glint against his teeth. “Well, yeah, of course, I mean, I was just saying I’d clean it up, so, you know, absolutely I’m gonna clean this up.” (He hadn’t cleaned anything in years.)

Peko didn’t look like she intended on taking his word for it and leaving though, so Kazuichi hastily stepped over the ring of glass and food slurry and made an attempt at searching for paper towels, knocking over what might have been a spice rack in the darkness and spilling something pungent-smelling across Fuyuhiko’s countertop.

“Hey, no hard feelings about earlier, right?” he said, trying to surreptitiously sweep the spices up and mostly succeeding in spreading them around. “I mean, the thing about me hiding in your topiaries? ‘Cause, y’know, Izuru’s orders.”

\------------------

Peko’s face remained carefully deadpan as she responded: “Whether or not there are ‘hard feelings’ regarding that matter are entirely up to the Young Master, Kazuichi.” Peko’s hands remained within Kazuichi’s line of sight, and she resisted letting her hands twitch in case he decided that going after anyone else with a wrench was a good idea. “A tool has no use holding a grudge; you of all people should be aware of this. If my Young Master says he holds a grudge, I will be the weapon that makes you answer for it.”

That was really all there was to say on the matter as Kazuichi gracefully knocked over more items in the kitchen. Peko could tell by now there was a significant decrease in pepper in the kitchen, and she resisted the urge to sneeze. “Perhaps it would be wise of you to turn on a light, Kazuichi.”

\------------------

“Oh, right,” said Kazuichi, because wow, yeah, that was obvious. In his defense, he hadn’t wanted to turn on a light and get caught raiding the kitchen, in case he wasn’t actually supposed to be here. He absentmindedly kicked the fridge door open the rest of the way again, letting light spill out into the vast room and sending a jar of wasabi tumbling from a shelf inside and smashing open to join the mess on the floor. “Crap, sorry.”

\------------------

Peko resisted letting out an exasperated sigh when Kazuichi opened the refrigerator to light up the kitchen as opposed to walking less than ten feet away to simply flip a lightswitch. Out of all of their classmates, Kazuichi seemed to be the one who changed the least once he was in Despair. Not that it mattered much to Peko who changed and who didn’t -- what mattered was that the Young Master was kept safe. 

\------------------

The rest of Peko’s words suddenly registered with Kazuichi, and he snuck a careful glance in her direction. She was still standing in the doorway, blocking his exit seemingly by coincidence, though he was sure it was anything but. “Hah. Right. You’re Fuyuhiko’s attack dog. You’re only mad if he’s mad.” He’d never been sure if Peko was in Despair, exactly. She didn’t act like it. But Fuyuhiko was in Despair, and Peko was Fuyuhiko’s creature, heart and soul. The distinction between blind loyalty to Junko and blind loyalty to Fuyuhiko, who was loyal to Junko, made little difference. 

“Well, I don’t care if he’s mad,” he added hastily, trying to sound casual. “Like I said, I was following orders. YOU get that. Izuru says jump, we all say how high, right? Haha.”

\------------------

At the mention of Izuru Kamukura, Peko tensed. This probably wasn’t entirely noticeable to Kazuichi. The perks that came with being perpetually stone faced were few and far between, but having others not notice when you weren’t comfortable was definitely one of them.

“Yes,” she stated, doing her best to sound as monotone as possible. (Fortunately, that was how she sounded all the time, so it worked out.) She still needed to confront Chiaki, and discuss the revelation of Chiaki _knowing Izuru Kamukura_. She hadn’t had the opportunity to do so, yet. “Right. Izuru is the leader, after all. It would be in one’s best interest to listen to him when he gives a command.”

\------------------

“Yeah, absolutely,” said Kazuichi, safe on familiar ground again. “No choice, right? Totally not my fault.” He opened a few drawers at random, stalling for time while he tried to figure out how to clean all this up, both in the literal sense, and the metaphorical one. If Peko was on the side of Despair, he should probably get right on trying to cover his butt; make sure everybody knew where his loyalties supposedly lay. Another awkward laugh. “Hah, If it hadn’t been him, I woulda said no. I don’t even _like_ Chiaki. All that crap about, y’know, Hope or whatever. Who does she think she’s kidding? It’s not like we’re gonna stop hurting people just ‘cause she asked nicely.”

\------------------

Peko felt a small bit of… something. Flare up in her when Kazuichi said he didn’t like Chiaki. Mostly because that was most likely a terrible lie; Chiaki’s death was a large part of what caused them all to fall into Despair in the first place. Peko included, initially. However, since Peko was but a tool for the Young Master to use, she squashed whatever the budding emotion was immediately.

“As the Young Master said, Chiaki is harmless,” Peko said plainly, as if she were stating the obvious. “And as a fellow guest of the Young Master, it would be in poor taste to insult her.”

\------------------

Kazuichi picked up a large, heavy, partially broken jar, and cast around vaguely for somewhere to throw it out.

Yeah. Harmless. Definitely not going to turn any of them away from the side of Despair, as far as Peko and Fuyuhiko knew. Kazuichi swallowed and felt his heart speed slightly. No, it was fine. He’d just tried to kill her today, of course they didn’t suspect-

The jar slipped out of his hands, and struck the ground hard enough to crack the tile, and he absolutely could not fix that.

_He’d tried to kill her today._

“Uh, I’ll just… I can fix…” He stepped backwards, away from Peko, away from the crack in the kitchen floor, until his back hit a counter and there was nowhere left to retreat. “I, uh…” Not allowed to Despair. Not allowed. Totally, completely not allowed, no matter how much this all suddenly absolutely _sucked._ But Despair would be cool with this, Despair would think this was funny, and Kazuichi Soda was _supposed_ to be deep, deep in Despair.

“Haha, yeah, I guess I did try to murder her earlier, too!” he said with a wide-eyed grin, not sure how much of his face Peko could make out in the stark light and shadows of the kitchen. His voice sounded just a little too wound up, a little too high-pitched. Maybe she’d mistake that for Despair. He did have a reputation for falling back on that over literally anything. “Just remembered that! My bad. I’ll try not to kill her or trash talk her or whatever you guys want. None of my business what Fuyuhiko wants to keep as a pet!”

\------------------

“So it seems.” Peko narrowed her eyes at Kazuichi for a moment, taking in the fact that he had tensed up during the conversation. It seemed he wasn’t too keen about talking about Chiaki -- which made sense. Perhaps he was still shaken by the fact that she wanted to bring him and the others out of Despair? Though the Young Master didn’t seem to think Chiaki could do much, Peko…

If Peko could -- that is, if Peko weren’t a tool to be used, and something more than that -- she would believe in Chiaki. Regardless of her connection with Izuru, or the short amount of time she was here, she had brought the Young Master a sense of happiness that Peko hadn’t seen him experience in quite some time. For now, for Peko, that was enough.

Due to the southward turn of the conversation at hand, it would be prudent to steer clear of the subject. “Perhaps you should focus on cleaning up your mess before we continue.” Peko stated bluntly. It was a well known fact that keeping Kazuichi busy with his hands was the number one way to distract him from pretty much anything. It wasn’t a technical or mechanical task she was having him do, but perhaps just getting him focused on it would be enough to relax him away from whatever he was on the edge of right now. “Before more mistakes are made.”

\------------------

So she WAS mad about the mess, or maybe just about the broken tile. Kazuichi bit his lip, then remembered that his teeth were filed to points, then bit his lip _harder,_ then remembered that No, Not Allowed, and released it in frustration. “Yeah yeah, I’m cleaning it up, I said I’d clean it up. He wouldn’t kick me out just for messing up his kitchen, anyway. He can’t, right? Izuru’s orders. Izuru said.”

Izuru had said nothing of the sort. Izuru had said to keep Chiaki alive around Fuyuhiko. Izuru should have known better than to ask him of all people. Not even his fault. Entirely Izuru’s. Izuru probably even knew he’d try to kill her. Izuru had set him up for failure from the beginning. Totally unfair.

“Not my fault,” he said aloud. “Your kitchen’s just set up so it’s easy to break things. Do you have,” he rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, “A… a mop or something? This seems like probably a mop situation?”

\------------------

Peko’s expression remained carefully neutral, regardless of how ridiculous Kazuichi sounded or how messy the kitchen was becoming. “A mop situation indeed,” she parroted, her tone neither positive nor negative. In situations such as this, it was almost easier to be an enigma. “I will see if one can be acquired for you.”

\------------------

“Yeah, that’s definitely a thing I want to do. Mop.” Kazuichi sounded disappointed that mops were, indeed, an option.

It seemed, for a moment, like Peko was going to leave, maybe to find said mop, and he really, REALLY should have let it die right there. But his mouth kept going before he could stop it, a nervous stammer of, “So you’re not worried at all, when she says she’s gonna cure your Despair? Like, she can’t do that, right? That’s definitely not a thing she can do? And even if she could, it wouldn’t be _easy_. Like, nobody’d just have one conversation with her and start, y’know, crying and apologizing, and go, ‘yeah, totally on your side now, let’s get rid of everybody’s Despair.’ You’re not worried about Fuyuhiko doing that, or anything?”

\------------------

Peko hadn’t even _started_ to leave when Kazuichi prattled on about his worries regarding Chiaki being able to bring the others out of Despair. However, the way he worded it…. It rang a bit too true as to the conversation she had had with Chiaki a week prior. Her face remained its natural neutral as always, but…

“Of course not,” Peko said, lying. If Kazuichi suspected that she and Chiaki were working together, it would put not just Chiaki in danger, but the Young Master as well. Peko couldn’t allow that to happen, even if it was a simpleton such as _Kazuichi_ she must protect him from. “I will follow wherever the Young Master leads me, but he would not allow himself to be swayed so easily. Even if it is by a friend.”

\------------------

Kazuichi tried to force another laugh and wave it off as if it wasn’t a big worry for him either. “Yeah, and of course _you’d_ be fine. Of course you’d never ever consider quitting this whole thing. Don’t know why I was even worried. You don’t listen to anybody but Fuyuhiko. Nobody’s… hah, _nobody’s_ gonna listen to her. She’s totally alone in this.”

There was pepper all over his hands, maybe if he just _ground that directly into his eyes-_ (NOT ALLOWED.) 

“Hah, haha, don’t even worry. ‘Cause, if she tries anything with Fuyuhiko, I’ve got his back, y’know? I’ll make sure she can’t get any of her stupid Hope all over him. You don’t have to worry. ‘Cause if anyone in this group is like, _known_ for just casually Despairing over everything, it’s me. I’m gonna fill this place with so much Despair, Peko. It’s pretty much the only thing I’m good at.” He smiled at her: a wide, wild grin that split his face. “And I’m _really_ good at it.”

\------------------

Peko resisted letting out a sigh at her classmate’s grandstanding -- though it was well known among the class that Kazuichi Soda was terrible at most things that didn’t directly involve fixing a machine, it wouldn’t take much for him to be better than Peko when it came to Despair. 

(And honestly, that was only because Peko wasn’t in Despair herself. Even as someone who was just a tool, she could admit this much.)

She was fairly certain that Kazuichi wouldn’t be able to prevent Chiaki from… “assisting” the Young Master, but even with Kazuichi’s… level of competence, Young Master Fuyuhiko could remain in Despair due to the threat of being discovered. Or he could simply _kill_ Kazuichi, which would spark suspicion from their other classmates, most of whom were a much greater threat.

Neither option seemed to be in the Young Master’s favor.

“I don’t doubt you,” Peko stated plainly. “Feel free to discuss this with the Young Master once he is awake. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear of your fealty.”

\------------------

“You think… you think I need to spell it out for him?” said Kazuichi, his grin slipping, and a faint, miserable internal screaming drowning out the thoughts at the back of his head. “I mean, obviously he knows already, right? Did he say anything to you? ‘Cause he knows, right? He knows. I’ll tell him.”

He was still backed up against the counter, the cold granite countertop digging into his back. That single, bright shaft of light from the refrigerator cut through the darkness, illuminating the mess on the floor between him and Peko. He couldn’t make out her expression, but she was buying this, right? God, he wanted to reach for his wrench - not to hit anybody, just to fidget with something. But she’d probably see that as a threat, so he kept his hands on the counter.

“H-hey, um, Pe _ko_ …” His voice broke nervously, and he had to clear his throat and start again. “Uh, Peko. What do you think would happen if one of us… uh… like, if she actually did it to one of us. You, or Fuyuhiko, or somebody. If we all found out you _weren’t_ in Despair. What do you think we’d _do_?”

\------------------

“I cannot speak for anyone else,” Peko began, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight back onto one foot. “But I am beholden to Young Master Fuyuhiko’s orders. I am a tool -- a tool has no opinions regarding such important matters.”

\------------------

“I’m asking you as a _Remnant_ ,” Kazuichi said sourly. “Like, do we have a _plan_ for that? Do we just… kill the person, or would we try to fix it, or…” He still couldn’t read Peko’s face in the darkness. Not that he could read it in the light, either, but he wished he had some idea of how she was reacting to this. Whether his stupid mouth was driving him off a cliff.

“Would we kill Fuyuhiko? I guess if Fuyuhiko quit, you’d try to stop us from killing him, right? But you want him to be in Despair, ‘cause you want what’s best for him, and like, it’d really _suck_ to not be in Despair, so-” ( _Shut up shut up shut up_ ) “I mean what’s the _plan_ for that??”

\------------------

“ _We_ wouldn’t do anything.” Peko snipped, the only sign of emotion she’s shown for this entire conversation. The mention of the Young Master being murdered by anyone spiked some sort of agitation in her, and it took a moment for her to get it under control. 

Peko’s silence continued for a moment more, thinking on how to answer the question. Kazuichi really _was_ ignorant on how the politics between the Remnants worked, wasn’t he? She didn’t necessarily want to fuel the fire of the Despair that had caused Kazuichi to almost murder Chiaki earlier today. However, she also felt as though lying wouldn’t be in her best interest here. 

“There is a contingency plan, if one of us did decide to defect,” Peko stated calmly, as if this knowledge didn’t affect her at all. “You know the hierarchy of power between us, of course.”

\------------------

“Of course,” said Kazuichi, who didn’t.

\------------------

Peko barely quelled another irritated sigh. “I am referring to those of us with the most power and influence. Those of us with manpower. The Young Master, who leads the Kuzuryu Clan. Sonia, who has the armies of Novoselic. And of course…” Peko had to pause here, trying to remember which identity the Imposter was claiming these days. Something english and hard to pronounce. “...The American president, and his military force.” Who knew how long _that_ tenuous position would last, but it currently made the Imposter one of the most powerful Remnants. “Those are the people who would enact… discipline, if one of us were to step out of line.”

\------------------

“Discipline,” Kazuichi repeated, his voice squeaking a little. “Are we talking, like, a slap on the wrist type of discipline, or, uh, y’know, the more… murdery kind of discipline? Define discipline.”

\------------------

“It is up to the discretion of whomever the Remnant in question is most loyal to, or whose territory they reside in. For example, if I were to somehow fall out of Despair, the Young Master would perform his due diligence to bring me back.”

“However, your case would be handled differently from the norm, if you decided to stop being in Despair. Though your loyalty lies with Sonia, and she would usually be the one to… _handle._ You.” Peko resisted the urge to shudder at that. “Since you are currently within the Young Master’s territory, he would be the one to take care of things instead.”

\------------------

“Ah. Okay. So the murdery kind of discipline,” Kazuichi said, with a nervous grin that was entirely too twitchy around the edges.

(Maybe if he did get caught, he could still talk them into handing him over to Miss Sonia? Miss Sonia would never kill him.)

\------------------

“As I said, it is up to the Young Master’s discretion,” Peko repeated noncommittally. “But since none of us intend to fall out of Despair, I doubt that contingency plan is something you or I will ever have to worry about.”

\------------------

“Right. Yeah. ‘Cause like Fuyuhiko said, it’s impossible. So that makes sense.” Was it weird that he was staring at her so intently? Kazuichi looked away with a rough laugh. “I mean, if anybody asked me, I’d definitely say we kill them, right? Like, how dare they disrespect Her like that, y’know? No, yeah, we kill them. I’m. Gonna go find a mop.”

Back still pressed to the counter, he edged around the mess, uncomfortably close to Peko as he passed her in the doorway. “Don’t. Uh. Don’t wait up. I’ll clean everything. You can go to bed.” He absolutely did not intend to clean anything.

\------------------

“Ah, that is good,” Peko stated, nodding as Kazuichi moved. “It would be most unpleasant if the Young Master awoke to find his kitchen in such disarray. Though I think I shall keep you company for the evening.” Peko made a move to follow him. “It would be impolite to leave the Young Master’s guest unattended.” 

Of course, this had _nothing_ to do with that and _everything_ to do with the fact that Chiaki was asleep herself in this very house, and Peko wasn’t going to allow Kazuichi to attempt to assault her a second time. But Kazuichi didn’t need to know that, and Peko stepped aside to allow Kazuichi to leave the kitchen and grab the cleaning supplies he needed. She bowed to Kazuichi formally, her head lowered and her arms at her side. “After you, Kazuichi.”

\------------------

“Oh, great,” Kazuichi muttered as they set off together down the hallway, in a tone of voice that indicated it was anything but. “More Peko bonding time. You’re the life of the party, I _love_ hanging out with you.”

\------------------

Chiaki was not, in fact, asleep during Peko and Kazuichi’s conversation. In fact, if anyone had peeked into her room since the three Remnants and their plus one returned, they most certainly would have been concerned for her health -- an absolutely absurd amount of junk food wrappers and energy drink containers littered the floor of her room, as well as the bed sheets that she’d attempted to (and only sort of succeeded at) making a gaming fort out of. Her GameGirl was in the fort with her, Pokemon Yellow still in the slot. She’d stayed up most of the night, and she pretty much had the most elite team the game could offer; sure, she had to make use of the legendaries, but she might as well. It wasn’t like she was in a tourney -- Mewtwo was allowed here. He was too cool not to be.

Chiaki knew that what was said earlier today wasn’t out of malice; Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi both just cared about Chiaki a lot. It still hurt to know that they didn’t think she could take care of herself, though. Even Hajime… 

She took a moment out of her Elite Four fighting and turned to talk to Pikachu, who smiled at her in game. Chiaki smiled back -- at least Pikachu knew Chiaki could win. (Though Pikachu didn’t know what was happening outside the game… but it was a nice thought.)

\------------------

“No, look, I swear I’m gonna clean it up, you don’t have to _hover_ ,” Kazuichi was protesting as he made his way toward Chiaki’s room. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really know where her room was, but looking for cleaning supplies was a good excuse to keep checking doors. Peko had steadfastly not left his side, walking a little behind him like some kind of relentless, terrifying pursuit predator. Geeze, it was like she didn’t _trust_ him to clean the kitchen up. Speedwalking to put some distance between them, he rounded a corner and heard a familiar sound drifting down the hallway: a cutesy little GameGirl soundfont playing what sounded like Pokemon.

Kazuichi froze.

He couldn’t talk to Chiaki in front of Peko. He wanted to apologize to her, and he _couldn’t,_ he’d have to play a part. Unconsciously, he reached into his pocket and gripped his wrench again for reassurance. Okay, so he’d just have to get rid of Peko. (Not by killing her. That’s not allowed, and also you suck at it.) Maybe he could just ditch her? Yeah. Yeah, good plan, smart plan.

As Peko caught up again, he went into a dead sprint. Arms and legs flailing wildly, not bothering to look behind himself to see if Peko was giving chase (because OF COURSE she was, the monster) he grabbed the handle to Chiaki’s door (not locked, thank god, he’d hate to have to break it) and dived inside, slamming it behind him and locking it before Peko could follow.

Panting, he stood staring at the doorway for a moment. Yeah. Good plan. GREAT plan.

\------------------

Chiaki startled at the sound of her door opening and slamming shut. Fuyuhiko and Peko usually knocked, so it wasn’t either of them, probably. She heard the lock shift on her doorknob, and she peeked out from under her blanket fort to see Kazuichi standing there, which was weird. Chiaki hadn’t had a chance to show Kazuichi where her room was, so how did he find it? She tensed up a little bit as she noticed that Kazuichi… well, he didn’t look _good_ , (and smelled vaguely like pickles for some reason?) and last time he looked like that in recent history, Chiaki almost experienced an analog Game Over. 

She took a deep, quiet inhale and held it for a moment, before letting it out. It was a small trick that Hajime had taught her, after she started having nightmares about the… previous almost analog Game Over. The trick was for more than just being scared, but… it _really_ helped when she was scared.

Kazuichi wasn’t going to _hurt_ her. If he was going to hurt her, he wouldn’t be eyeing the door like it was going to explode; he would have attacked her already. She was safe. She wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but Kazuichi was in her room now. She could handle that. 

“Hi.” Chiaki gave a small wave from her blanket fort, while turning the volume of her game down with her other hand. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

\------------------

“NOTHING HAPPENED TO FUYUHIKO’S KITCHEN!” yelped Kazuichi, a slurry of grease and spilled food all over his shoes. He spun around and pressed his back to the door as if expecting it to be broken down at any moment. It was not.

“I mean. Uh.” He fiddled with the wrench in his pocket again. “So. Okay, so. You may not remember this, ‘cause a lot of stuff happened today and it sorta slipped my mind on account of how it really didn’t seem important at the time, but like, if you _do_ remember, just like, uh, earlier today when I, um, when I might have accidentally sort of tried to hit you kind of really hard with a wrench, uh, on accident, and like-”

\------------------

“Kazuichi.” Chiaki cut him off, looking up at him from the floor. She knew that she was going to have to talk to him about this sooner or later -- Chiaki had just assumed that she’d have to bring it up. The fact that _Kazuichi_ was bringing it up was definitely a step in the right direction.

It may have been scary, looking back on it, but watching Kazuichi buckle under whatever pressure he had been feeling when Chiaki made her confession to Fuyuhiko and Peko… Chiaki realized that Kazuichi might not be as “out of Despair” as she had initially thought. Granted, she probably should have assumed it wasn’t going to be _that_ easy.

Well, they do say hindsight is 20/20 -- that wasn’t a mistake that Chiaki was going to make twice.

“I remember, Kazuichi,” she said, looking at the clock next to her bed before adding: “It only happened seven hours ago.”

\------------------

“Right. Of course you remember, it was kind of a- I mean, not a BIG thing, but like, _kind_ of a big thing, and, uh…”

Peko was still not breaking down the door, which Kazuichi realized he was half hoping for, since it would get him out of this awkward conversation. (Which was stupid, because he’d ditched her specifically to have this conversation.)

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. So. Sorry. I, uh… sorry.”

\------------------

Chiaki gave Kazuichi a small smile. She knew that quitting something like Despair was hard. Caving in sometimes was going to happen to all of them; she was going to try and be understanding, to the best of her ability. She might not be in Despair, but that didn’t mean that Kazuichi should suffer alone.

“It’s okay.” She opened her blanket fort entrance a bit wider, inviting him in without words. “We should probably talk about it though, so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again. Okay?”

\------------------

“Uh,” said Kazuichi, who’d thought that would be the end of the conversation. He glanced nervously back at the door before stepping cautiously forward and crawling in under her blanket fortress, getting more greasy handprints on Fuyuhiko’s carpet. There wasn’t much room, but he curled his legs up tightly to his chest and tried to make himself fit.

“Uh, I’m not sure what else there is to talk about. You’re not dead, so we’re all good, right?”

\------------------

“Well, that’s true.” Chiaki tapped her finger on her chin lightly, thinking about what she wanted to say next. This was an important conversation -- Kazuichi probably hadn’t had to think Not Despair in a while, so Chiaki might have to remind him of some things. “But even _trying_ to kill me isn’t a good thing, even if you didn’t mean to. I guess I want to find out what happened to see if we can avoid it.”

She scooted over to allow for more room for Kazuichi -- there was plenty of room in the fort for more than one person, if Chiaki wasn’t being greedy and laying down on her stomach like she had been until this point. 

“I guess I just wanna know why you wanted to kill me then.” She said, moving her hand from her face to the floor and picking at the carpet. “That way… that way I can make sure I don’t upset you again.”

\------------------

“Well, I mean, I had to, right?” said Kazuichi. “I’m not in Despair, and you were gonna rat me out, right after you promised not to. What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t upset, I just had to stop you, or I’d get caught. You know what Fuyuhiko would do to me, if he found out I quit Despair? ‘Cause I don’t, and I don’t wanna imagine it.” He shrugged. “Self defense, right? I still feel _bad_ about it, I know it’s not _allowed_ , but it was extenuating circumstances. You get that.”

\------------------

Chiaki’s brows furrowed at Kazuichi’s accusation. _I’m not in Despair, therefore I had to murder you_ wasn’t really a train of logic that made _sense_ , but Despair messed with your head like that sometimes.

“Kazuichi, I wasn’t going to say anything about you.” She looked up at him, her expression starting to morph into a pout. “I was planning on telling Fuyuhiko what I was doing, because I didn’t want to lie to him anymore, but I wasn’t planning on telling him about you.”

\------------------

“He would have figured it out. Chiaki, we _talked_ about this.” Kazuichi groaned and ran a hand through his hair, smearing motor oil and pepper through it. “You tell him you’re gonna fix him, and then he remembers that you talked to me first, and then he realizes you probably told me the same thing, and THEN he asks ME about it, and then it’s just me lying to him instead of you. Let’s face it, trying to kill you probably bought me some time with that, but EVENTUALLY he’s gonna ask. What am I supposed to do then? I don’t like lying to him either! I’m really bad at it!”

\------------------

Chiaki tilted her head and thought about the information that Kazuichi gave her. They _had_ talked about it, but… 

“Even if you’re a bad liar, I could just tell him I hadn’t said anything to you yet either,” she said. 

\------------------

He wasn’t used to thinking about this stuff, wasn’t used to analyzing his own actions. In Despair you just didn’t. Everything was instinct. “Okay, yeah, I guess I should have thought of that,” he muttered sheepishly. “But if that was the plan, you should have said that was the plan, y’know? How was I supposed to know that was the plan?”

\------------------

Chiaki solemnly nodded, understanding where she messed up. “Okay. From now on if I have to do something when it comes to my plan, I’ll make sure to let you know in advance so I don’t accidentally hurt or scare you. I know you’re not okay with everyone else knowing yet, but… that’s probably really lonely. So I’ll help you, and I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

\------------------

Yeah, it really was lonely. In a gut-wrenching and anxiety ridden way that Kazuichi couldn’t even begin to articulate, it was absolutely, miserably isolating. His hand had found the wrench again, and was playing idly with the worm screw. He really was doing that a LOT lately. No idea why. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m not lonely, I’ve got everybody else on team Blow Up The World, right? You’re the one who needs somebody to have your back. That’s why I’m here, remember? Okay, Izuru’s why I’m here, but I mean, I care too.”

\------------------

She watched as Kazuichi began to fidget with his pocket wrench (which wasn’t actually pocket sized -- it was just the wrench in his pocket) and thought for a moment. “I know you care about me, Kazuichi. But I care about you, too.” She leaned towards him and nudged his shoulder with hers. “Doing secret stuff by yourself can be scary, and I’m the one who asked you to do it, so… I want to help you when I can.”

Chiaki gave Kazuichi an encouraging smile. “Besides, I’m your class rep. It’s my job to help you out. ...Probably.”

\------------------

“Okay,” said Kazuichi, with a small smile. “Okay. We’ve got each other’s backs. That sounds like a good plan to me.” He glanced back toward the door again. “So we’re good, right? You and me?”

\------------------

“Yeah, we’re good,” Chiaki said, smiling at Kazuichi. “I think.”

\------------------

“Okay, awesome. ‘Cause if you wanna help me out, I think Peko’s creeping on the other side of that door, and she definitely DOESN’T think we’re good, and if you could maybe start screaming or something so she thinks I’m murdering you, that’d help a lot.”

\------------------

“Peko is?” Chiaki blinked and looked at her bedroom door, before starting at Kazuichi’s suggestion to start screaming. “Wait, why? We shouldn’t have to --”

Chiaki suddenly realized that she hadn’t informed Kazuichi or Peko that they were all on the same side, and that she should probably do that. “Oh. _Oh._ Uh, we should let Peko in. There’s something I need to talk to you guys about.”

\------------------

“I think,” said Kazuichi, “If you start screaming, she’ll _definitely_ come in here.”

\------------------

“She’ll probably come in if we just unlock the door, too.” Chiaki tapped her chin with her finger, thinking. “It’s probably better that we don’t let her think you’re trying to kill me, Kazuichi. I don’t think Fuyuhiko liked it earlier, and I don’t think Peko did either.”

\------------------

“Yeah, good call, she might murder me with a sword,” said Kazuichi. “We are _nailing_ this planning crap.”

He climbed awkwardly out of the blanket fort and cautiously made his way toward the door. Probably best to just play it cool. Chiaki seemed to know what she was doing.

\------------------

Peko waited outside of Chiaki’s room for approximately five minutes, doing her best to listen to their muffled voices as Kazuichi fumbled through what sounded like an awkward apology for making a (admittedly horridly executed) attempt at Chiaki’s life. Peko had tried to enter the room once Kazuichi ran in, but he seemed to have at least enough forethought to lock the door behind him. Peko had access to a skeleton key, so if need be she could enter at any time, but if he was truly entering Chiaki’s room to apologize, Peko knew that Chiaki would be opposed to her interruption.

It wasn’t an excuse for Peko’s failure to keep Kazuichi in check, but she irately wondered where the guards that the Young Master had assigned to Chiaki’s door had gone. Just because the oyabun was unconscious was no excuse for everyone to abandon both basic discipline and their posts. If the Young Master were to find out they had ignored their duties, it would be a manhunt. 

So Peko waited for any sort of cue that she was allowed in: from Chiaki’s frantic screaming, to items being knocked over, to --

\------------------

“Heeey, Peko!” said Kazuichi, unlocking the door and swinging it open with a large grin. “Sorry for ditching you! Totally forgot you were out there! Did you know this was Chiaki’s room? This is Chiaki’s room.”

\------------------

The sound of the bedroom door unlocking and the movement of Kazuichi opening it and appearing before her pulled Peko from her reverie, and she blinked as Kazuichi proceeded to talk far too much for someone who had more than likely just been admonished for his behavior. 

“Peko!” Peko ignored Kazuichi in favor of more civilized company, leaning to the side and seeing Chiaki surrounded by blankets and pillows, a still-on handheld gaming system laid next to her. “Can we talk to you for a sec? It’s important.”

Peko narrowed her eyes and stepped inside, giving Kazuichi a warning glance but not saying anything, in case he tried to run off again.

“Yes, Chiaki?” 

Chiaki got up from her cocoon and walked over to her bedroom door, shutting and locking it herself this time. 

“So, uhm… I gotta catch you guys up on some stuff.”

\------------------

“What do you MEAN you’re not in Despair?!” Kazuichi wailed.


	6. Contingency Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We actually went back and roleplayed a special extra director's cut scene for this chapter!
> 
> In this chapter, Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91, and Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko were played by RedPen.

So apparently Kazuichi wasn’t in Despair anymore -- or at least, he was trying -- and this plan seemed significantly more realistic than Peko had initially thought.

\------------------

“What do you mean Peko’s not in Despair?!” Kazuichi continued wailing, fantastically failing to take this in stride as his voice hit octaves man wast not wont to know. “Why didn’t you… you could have SAID!! This whole time I’ve been tiptoeing around you, and you could have TOLD me!! Is this-” 

They were for some reason having this meeting in Chiaki’s overcrowded blanket fort, and Kazuichi made an attempt to scoot backward away from Peko and somehow got himself tangled in it. “Is this even SAFE, letting you in on this? I mean what are you-” a wide-eyed glance at Chiaki. “What’s she gonna do when Fuyuhiko starts asking around? She’s not gonna lie for us! This was a bad plan. I take it back, this was a _terrible_ plan.”

\------------------

Chiaki’s cheeks puffed into a pout. “It is not! Peko is just as worried about Fuyuhiko as we are, and she wants to see him happy again!” Chiaki paused, before adding: “I mean, happy happy, not Despair happy. That’s different.”

“I do agree that this is a risky plan,” said Peko. Chiaki looked back at her, the pout now directed at the other girl. “Though for the… opposite reason. Kazuichi is not well known for his discretion.”

\------------------

“Oh no, yeah, I’m a terrible liar,” Kazuichi admitted blithely.

\------------------

“He’ll be okay.” Chiaki said bluntly. “I’ll keep him safe!”

Peko let out a soft sigh, giving Chiaki and Kazuichi a wry and awkward smile. “I, for one, will choose to believe in this plan. However, as I mentioned to Kazuichi earlier, we do have a contingency plan in place, if any of us decide to defect. What is your plan for when the others begin to retaliate against you, or threaten your life?” Peko didn’t continue, but the implication was there: if Fuyuhiko was one of those who retaliated… Peko didn’t have a choice but to remain at his side. Chiaki was aware of this.

Chiaki was quiet for a moment. She hadn’t really _thought_ about that -- she knew that there might be a chance that some of her friends said ‘no’, but it was a distant hypothetical. She hadn’t run into that yet so…

“I’m still trying to figure that part out.” Chiaki said, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “But once I come up with a plan, I’ll let you two know. For now, let’s make a promise -- as long as one of us doesn’t tell anyone else our secrets, they’re safe, right?” Chiaki looked between Kazuichi and Peko. “So, you two have to promise to not tell on each other.”

Peko side-eyed Kazuichi with wary eyes, narrowing them in suspicion before addressing Chiaki again. “I can only promise to do what I can. I stand by my previous statement; if Young Master Fuyuhiko says that I am to become his sword, then I shall. However…” Peko looked at Kazuichi. “If it is for the betterment of the Young Master, I shall keep your secret for now.”

Chiaki nodded and turned her serious gaze on Kazuichi. “You too, Kazuichi. You have to promise.”

\------------------

“Yeah, no crap! I’m not gonna tell Fuyuhiko! He’d _kill_ me!” Kazuichi was trying to detangle himself from the blanket fort. “Sure, fine, I promise not to tell him, unless he tortures it out of me, in which case yeah I’ll probably tell him but it’s not gonna be my fault. Fine?”

He paused. “Oh, wait, actually, I might have a plan for this! Peko, look, he can’t give you any orders if you can’t hear him, right? So the first thing we do, when Fuyuhiko finds out, is we gag him and tie him up so he can’t tell you to kill us! And then, hey, Peko becomes _our_ bodyguard. If any of the other Remnants try to kill us, she can kill them first.”

\------------------

Peko tried to gauge if he was serious or not. “It is my sworn duty to protect the Young Master. If you are threatening to harm him in any way, I will have no choice but to stop you.”

“I think that’s a ‘no’,” Chiaki stated. “And I don’t like that either.”

\------------------

“It’d be helping him!” Kazuichi argued back. “We want him to not be in Despair, so he doesn’t kill us for not being in Despair. Does a little kidnapping matter in the long run? I think no, right?” Looking between the two of them, he realized that this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. “Well at least I HAVE a plan!”

\------------------

Chiaki pouted at Kazuichi, before suddenly brightening up as a lightbulb went off in her brain. “I have a plan too!” she said, crossing her arms. “I think.” 

Peko silently hoped Chiaki’s plan was even an iota more intelligent than Kazuichi’s.

“I’m going to get Fuyuhiko out of Despair.” Chiaki brought her knees up and hugged them. “That was my original plan anyway, before we ran into Kazuichi. As long as I can do that before he suspects anything about you two, everything should be fine, right? We’ve just… gotta go fast.”

 _And be careful not to lose our rings_ , Chiaki didn’t say. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rings were a metaphor for in this analogy, but they were definitely aiming for the no damage kind of speedrun.

\------------------

“That’s not a plan, that’s an endgoal. ‘Cause, like, while you’re doing that, Peko and I are gonna be over here pretending to be in Despair. Yeah, fine, he probably doesn’t care about Peko - but _I_ have to keep pretending. And if he starts poking around before you’ve got him all… all flower crowns and friendship, then he’s gonna make Peko kill me, so that’s not a plan! What’s the _plan_ , Chiaki? How exactly are you gonna make him not do that?” Kazuichi wound his fingers through his hair in frustration. “How long do I gotta _keep this up?”_

\------------------

“If I may interject.” Peko interrupted Kazuichi’s whining, both to give her opinion and because she was sick of hearing it. “You may have _decided_ to no longer be in Despair, but your _attitude_ remains very much the same.”

\------------------

“Excuse you?” said Kazuichi, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at Peko’s chest. (Dragging part of the blanket fort with him because he was still somewhat tangled in it.) “Ex _cuse_ you? My attitude is completely different! I’m doing great at this! I’ve been going cold turkey for weeks and I haven’t killed Chiaki or _anybody.”_

\------------------

“I think he’s doing better.” Chiaki pointed out, coming to Kazuichi’s defense. “But if Peko doesn’t think you’re acting different, maybe Fuyuhiko won’t either. That’s a good thing, right Kazuichi?”

\------------------

“I mean, it’s not easy. People could at least _notice_ ,” Kazuichi muttered, his indignation petering out because clearly nobody appreciated all those times he didn’t grind pepper into his eyes or goad Fuyuhiko into shooting him in the kneecaps. He sat back and tried halfheartedly to fix the blanket tent. Well, that was typical. Nobody ever appreciated anything he- (wait, nope, negative thinking, not allowed. Seriously, nobody cared how _hard_ it was to keep _doing this_.)

“Okay. So maybe he won’t notice. That’s still not a plan.”

\------------------

Peko glanced over at Chiaki, who was pouting again. Kazuichi may have said it aloud, but internally, Peko was also feeling a bit apprehensive. Chiaki had clearly barreled into this situation with no plan. They were going into this with blind faith that Chiaki could pull it off, and, apparently, so was Chiaki.

There was no point in panicking about it now. If what they needed was logical, objective reasoning, Peko could provide it. She’d offered herself as a tool to Chiaki - this was one way they could use her.

“Though you are still terrible at lying,” Peko continued, addressing Kazuichi, “You _did_ attempt to kill Chiaki the second she mentioned bringing us all out of Despair. Though the Young Master is... upset. At you for doing so…” Upset was an understatement. “I have to admit, it was in your favor. The Young Master was thoroughly deceived about where your allegiance lies.” Peko felt something twist in her chest at the idea of actively _lying_ to the Young Master. 

( _Traitor, traitor, traitor,_ chanted the litany in the back of her head. She ignored it. There was no point in focusing on that, either.)

\------------------

“Yeah,” said Kazuichi, slightly mollified as he fidgeted with the blankets. “That… that was why I did that. For deception.”

\------------------

That was definitely _not_ the conversation she and Kazuichi had just had, but Chiaki reached over and gently patted Kazuichi on the shoulder anyway. “Thanks for trying so hard, Kazuichi.” 

\------------------

It was stupid to be so easily swayed by praise, but Kazuichi couldn’t help but beam when Chiaki patted him on the shoulder. Yeah, take that, _Peko._

\------------------

Chiaki leaned back, looking confident. “Well, the plan is the same for me. Treat Fuyuhiko like he’s my friend, because he is. That worked on Kazuichi.”

\------------------

“Well, obviously I’m a more mature and rational person than Fuyuhiko,” Kazuichi said, and ignored the Look that Peko shot him.

\------------------

“And we already promised not to talk about the plan to anyone else, so it’s fine,” Chiaki continued. “Probably.”

“The Young Master wishes to see to it that Chiaki is protected,” Peko stated. “And considering how he was acting towards Kazuichi earlier today, that fact has not changed. Therefore, there is no reason for any of us to be in any immediate danger.” Chiaki smiled brightly as Peko agreed with her.

“However,” Peko continued, not actually agreeing with her at all, “Kazuichi does have a point -- acting as though nothing has changed when the Young Master is now aware that you are attempting to ‘fix’ his Despair… It isn’t realistic. We need our own contingency plan.”

Chiaki thought for a moment, her brows furrowed. Peko had a point. Chiaki had been so focused on ensuring that Kazuichi didn’t panic again that she hadn’t been focusing on _why_ he was scared. She gave the two of them a sheepish expression, finally conceding to the point they were making. “That’s fair, but I’m not sure what to do. I didn’t realize it was going to be so complicated.”

Peko gave Chiaki a solemn look. “It is good to plan for such times. The Young Master…” Peko paused. It was bad enough that she had betrayed the Young Master’s weakness to Chiaki, who would not take advantage of it; she refused to speak of the things that triggered his fits of Despair in front of Kazuichi, who could potentially exploit it to save his own skin. “Even if he does not wish to hurt you _now_ , there may come a time in the future when his... priorities change, as much as you do not wish to believe it.”

\------------------

“Well, you won’t let me bind and gag him, so that plan’s out,” Kazuichi grumbled. Mentioning that he was pretty good at doing that safely, considering his sex life, was probably not going to win him any points.

“So what’s our contingency plan? ‘Cause if I get caught, Fuyuhiko will kill me. If Fuyuhiko kills Chiaki, Izuru will kill me. Like, maybe I can grab her and run, but if she’s not in grabbing distance, I’m just running, and I’ll probably cry. Then it’s your problem.”

\------------------

It was Chiaki’s turn to be affronted at someone. “Hajime wouldn’t kill you!” she said, pouting at Kazuichi. “He might get mad, but he wouldn’t kill you. I promise.”

\------------------

“I mean, he wouldn’t get _mad_ ,” Kazuichi said with a shrug. “But he’d definitely kill me.”

\------------------

Now wasn’t the time for the “Hajime does, in fact, have feelings” argument, so Chiaki ignored that. “Besides, Fuyuhiko wouldn’t hurt me either. I know it’s risky, but…” Chiaki took a moment to gather her thoughts, lining the words up in her head before she said them. “If we want him to come out of Despair, we have to show Fuyuhiko that we can trust him while he’s in Despair, too. He has the self control to do it. We just have to treat him like he can, to remind him.” Maybe that wasn’t the most eloquent way to word it, but Chiaki hoped she’d made her feelings understood. “Does that make sense?”

Peko looked skeptical. “To remind him of what?”

“That he’s a good person.” Chiaki gave an encouraging smile to Peko and Kazuichi, as if either of them would believe that a guy with a “tornado shelter” in his house for torturing people who crossed him could be described as a good person.

“Here’s the contingency plan,” she said firmly, pounding her fist into her palm. “Whatever happens to me, I want the two of you to be safe. Kazuichi, if you ever don’t feel safe, I want you to leave.” With a solemn expression, she added, “I _can_ take care of myself, and I don’t want to put you in any danger. You too, Peko. I know you can’t run away like Kazuichi can, but if things get too agro for you, you don’t have to side with me.”

\------------------

_Oh, come on, don’t DO that._

Kazuichi had never felt safe anywhere ever in his life, and certainly, absolutely, not in THIS situation. But he had orders from Izuru, and no amount of well-meaning platitudes from Chiaki could override- wait, DID he have orders from Izuru? If he had technically quit the Remnants of Despair, did he actually have to do ANYTHING Izuru said? Kazuichi was frozen for a moment in deep existential uncertainty, before deciding that he probably did have to take orders, on account of Izuru could beat him up. 

(And also because the thought of actually ditching her sent the same prickling static across the back of his mind that almost killing her had. He’d be alone, not Hope or Despair, rejected by BOTH groups, and if there was one thing that terrified him more than death, it was that.)

“I’ll stick around,” he said, trying to sound tough. “Look, I won’t LIKE it, but I’ll stick around. I told you, I’ve got your back. Not like you can rely on Peko.”

\------------------

Chiaki was tense while Kazuichi mulled his options over, and when he eventually decided to stay, she let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. She gave Kazuichi a bright smile, even as he insulted Peko to her face. “Thanks, Kazuichi. I’m glad you’re staying.”

Peko let out a sigh, not bothering to mention that Kazuichi was half-correct about whether she could be trusted. _If things go south, ditch me,_ was… not a plan, exactly, but maybe the beginnings of one, and she could be satisfied with that for now. If nothing else, Fuyuhiko would take out his anger on Chiaki, and Peko and Kazuichi would be safe. Honestly, Kazuichi had picked a bad time to choose someone else over his own hide for once. 

“Of course, if the Young Master doesn’t approve of Kazuichi’s stay, this is all a moot point.” 

Chiaki pouted at that. “But then Kazuichi would be alone… I don’t want that.”

\------------------

Another smile, another positive affirmation from Chiaki, and Kazuichi’s chest swelled with a warmth that even Peko’s pessimism couldn’t ruin.

“I mean, I can just do what Izuru does when he decides to squat at one of our places,” he said with a shrug. “Pick a room and pretend it’s my house. If he kicks me out, there’s always the topiaries.” He grinned again. “But here’s the thing. He can’t kick me out. I’m under _orders_.”

\------------------

Peko’s brows furrowed, considering this information. If the Young Master did indeed decide that Kazuichi wasn’t welcome in his home, there was the _potential_ that it would bring down the wrath of Izuru Kamukura. Which was a bad thing, and extremely dangerous -- Peko had met the man only a few times herself, so she was unable to gauge how much of a threat Kamukura truly was, but it seemed a little suicidal to pick a fight with the Ultimate Everything.

However, if Chiaki trusted him… perhaps he was not as deadly as she had initially been led to believe. 

(Granted, Chiaki trusted Kazuichi and he had attempted to _kill her with a wrench_ \-- but apparently that fact was neither here nor there at this point.)

“That is a fair argument.” Peko said, looking between Chiaki and Kazuichi. “If Kazuichi plays his cards correctly, then the Young Master will allow him to stay on account of Izuru Kamukura’s orders. No Remnant can defy him.”

Chiaki nodded sagely in response -- Hajime was very important now. He was supposed to be respected by her classmates, because of… 

Chiaki didn’t want to think about that too much.

“So we’ll be okay!” Chiaki said, smiling again. “That’s good. That way if something happens, we’ll all be together.”

\------------------

Something happened, and it was Fuyuhiko knocking on the door.

He’d started heading this direction at the sound of Kazuichi’s muffled whining echoing across the house, and now he could hear the murmur of voices inside Chiaki’s room. It sounded like they were all together. Peko’s voice mingled with Kazuichi and Chiaki’s, so the latter was probably safe. If Peko hadn’t been there, Fuyuhiko would have kicked down the door, despite his own rules. Kazuichi absolutely could not be trusted.

They went silent at his knock.

“Hey,” he called out from the other side of the doorway, having just caught the tail end of the conversation. “I know you’re conspiring in there about how to keep me from kicking Kazuichi out. How about maybe you fuckin’ ask me nicely.”

\------------------

Chiaki jumped at the knock at her door, and felt guilty when it was Fuyuhiko on the other side. She hadn’t wanted to exclude him, but considering the fact that Fuyuhiko had been shot in the shoulder and was asleep, they hadn’t really had much of a choice. Plus, this hadn’t really been a conversation they could _include_ him in.

Chiaki got up from their blanket fort and went to the bedroom door, opening it to find the man of the hour standing behind it. “Hi, Fuyuhiko. Can Kazuichi stay?”

\------------------

“Yes. Fuck. Pick a room.”

Kazuichi stood up quickly, destroying the blanket fort. “Really?!”

“Izuru sent you. What am I supposed to do about it?” Fuyuhiko looked him up and down: the oil and grease and mess of whatever he’d spilled in the kitchen spattering him from head to toe. “Don’t pick one of the _nice_ rooms. Also, stay away from Chiaki.”

“My orders-”

“I know your orders. I also know you’re failing spectacularly at them, so you don’t get to talk to Chiaki without a chaperone. Those are MY orders. Peko, that’s on you to enforce.” He leaned heavily on the doorframe, realizing that he probably shouldn’t have bothered getting out of bed for this. But he’d had no idea what the situation was between everyone after he’d passed out, and he didn’t want to delegate Kazuichi Management entirely to Peko. “Chiaki, how are you holding up?”

\------------------

Peko resisted the urge to rush forward and help the Young Master when she saw him lean against the doorframe -- he shouldn’t be up so soon after everything that had happened to him today, and she was aware of this. Not resting properly could cause him more harm than good, and she was sure that the Young Master knew this, but acting on her impulse could cause him to lose face in front of his company.

“I’m okay. I was playing Pokemon for a while before I started talking to Kazuichi and Peko.” Chiaki said cheerfully, before noticing that Fuyuhiko was having issues of his own. “Are you okay? You got hurt earlier today, right? Do you need to lay down? I can go grab something if you need it.”

Peko relaxed a bit, watching Chiaki ask him what she could not. Though she was concerned about his well being, it was not the place of a tool to ask questions.

\------------------

Fuyuhiko waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, not like I’ve never been shot before.” Okay, actually, he really would like to sit down. He gripped the doorframe a little harder, and added, “Fuckin’ rude of you not to invite me into your blanket fort, though.”

Kazuichi, who’d just destroyed the blanket fort, rushed to fix it. “H-hold on! I can- actually, the structural stability of this is really bad, I’m just gonna make some adjustments…”

Fuyuhiko rolled his eye and walked over slowly to sit down on the bed, now stripped of all its sheets and pillows. A short nod to Peko, the barest acknowledgement that he appreciated her keeping an eye on things. “So I’m gonna admit, that didn’t go well today.”

\------------------

Chiaki wasn’t sure what to do as Kazuichi fussed over the blanket fort and Fuyuhiko sat on the bed. She looked over to Peko, whose face had gone instantly stoic as soon as Fuyuhiko appeared in the door. Chiaki had a feeling that Peko didn’t exactly know what to do here either.

“Well, uhm…” Chiaki floundered, not entirely sure how to respond to that. “It wasn’t your fault, so you shouldn’t feel bad about it. You got shot, right? You had it the worst today, I think.”

\------------------

“Seriously, Chiaki, I get shot all the time. Don’t worry too much about it. Just wanted you to know, that wasn’t representative of how I normally run things. Streets should have been clear for that tour. Somebody slipped up, and I will absolutely take care of it.” He raised his legs so Kazuichi could crawl past him, dragging a handful of sheets. “Still. That’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have dragged you out into that.”

\------------------

Chiaki sat down next to Fuyuhiko and made a thoughtful expression. “I know it was really scary, but I’m not upset or anything.” She gently patted Fuyuhiko’s shoulder, doing her best not to jostle his wound too much. “I know the kind of person you are, and everything today was an accident. I’m just happy we all made it back. We even have someone extra now!” Chiaki smiled at Kazuichi, who was busily rebuilding the blanket fort, before turning back to Fuyuhiko. (From the look on his face, there was definitely some snarky comment he wanted to make about that, but with impressive willpower he resisted doing so.)

“You can always try to show me again later, if you want to.” She gave Fuyuhiko an encouraging smile, before her expression lit up with an idea. “Hey hey, since we’re all here, we should have a video game tournament!” She stood up, practically bouncing at the idea of playing games with her friends again. “It’ll be like back at Hope’s Peak! We can all play Mario Party with each other and see who comes out on top! I can go get snacks from the kitchen, and soda -- wait, do you still like tea more than soda, Peko? I can make some!”

\------------------

“How about nobody goes to the kitchen!!” said Kazuichi, scrambling upright and knocking over the blanket fort again.

“I know you destroyed my kitchen. You’re not hiding the fact that you destroyed my kitchen. My kitchen is all over your shoes,” said Fuyuhiko, flatly. “And…” 

He meant to shoot down the video game tournament, not because he hated the idea of spending some quality bonding time with Chiaki, but because it had been a long, hectic day, and now it was the middle of the night and he was exhausted and his shoulder was burning. But at the sight of Chiaki’s excited face, he changed his mind. _Keep her happy. Don’t let her Despair._

“Yeah. Actually, yeah, that sounds like fun.” Kazuichi stared at him like he was some kind of alien creature. “What, you think I can’t have fun destroying you at video games? I have fuckin’ hobbies, Kazuichi. Chiaki’s on my team.”

“Dammit,” said Kazuichi.

~~~~~~~

“We have a problem,” said Fuyuhiko, much later.

It was after losing at Mario Party for the third time, as pale, crack-of-dawn sunlight began to tint the horizon. Kazuichi had crawled off to some other guest room to sleep, and Fuyuhiko was being escorted back to his own room by a concerned Peko, down a long stretch of empty hallway. “Well, we’ve got several problems, and most of them are Kazuichi.”

\------------------

“I profusely apologize for the guards’ disappearance.” Peko stated immediately. At the back of her mind she’d been expecting him to be angry about that, and already had her apology prepared for when the two of them were alone. He seemed determined not to discipline her in front of Chiaki, but… Chiaki wasn’t here now. She did her best not to let her sudden apprehension show on her face. “I will handle the issue personally, once you are safely back in your room, Master.”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko blinked in surprise, because he really, _really_ should have noticed that. “Shit, you’re right. Kazuichi never should have been able to just wander into her room like that. Where the fuck were Chiaki’s bodyguards?”

\------------------

Peko kept her face strategically stoic, but the fact that the Young Master hadn’t noticed that was, frankly, startling. It was one thing to forget small, insignificant details like forgetting to collect Chiaki’s measurements for new clothes (it was a week later, and Chiaki was still wearing the same threadbare hoodie), but to not notice something like his own men disregarding his direct orders...

Peko held her tongue; the Young Master had already been through a lot today, and had potentially lost face already. Just like with the wound in his shoulder, he wouldn’t appreciate Peko voicing her concerns out loud. More than likely, it would just make the punishment to come more… focused.

\------------------

“Fuckin’ hell,” Fuyuhiko grumbled to himself, answering his own question with a shake of his head that brushed off that faint surprise. “Apparently, basic discipline just falls apart around here when I’m not watching.”

Something in him, weak and wavering and buried deeply under layers of Despair, whispered hoarsely at that, a faint voice trying desperately to be heard. _That’s a problem. It’s a problem that my men don’t respect me enough to follow my orders when I’m not hovering over their shoulders. That shouldn’t be happening. Something is wrong-_

 _No,_ he thought forcefully, drowning that tiny voice out. No, it wasn’t Fuyuhiko’s failure, it wasn’t a problem with how Fuyuhiko was running the Kuzuryu Clan. It was Peko’s fault. When the oyabun was indisposed, the buck stopped with Peko. It was HER the men didn’t respect. Fuyuhiko stopped walking abruptly, glancing over at his tool with an angry, narrowed eye, and the static of Despair prickled eagerly at the back of his head.

“You think a _profuse apology_ is gonna cut it?” he said, turning that sudden anger on her in a way they were both very used to. “Why weren’t my men at their posts, Peko? Why the fuck did you let that slide? Kazuichi could have walked in there and bashed Chiaki’s skull in; were you just gonna _profusely apologize_ for that too? Sorry, Master, I’ll scrub her brains off the floor right away! That seem acceptable to you?”

\------------------

Peko stopped moving when the oyabun did, taking his verbal lashing with as much dignity as she could. She couldn’t stop him, in this or in other ways she was punished; he was her Master, she was his tool. This was the role Peko was made to play. Even if it made her feel ashamed and hurt when he did it. She knew that was the point, after all.

“No, Oyabun.” Peko kept her responses short and concise, to keep her voice from trembling in an obvious fashion. Her face remained neutral, and she didn’t bother to look at him directly. If he wanted her gaze, the Young Master would find a way to make her look at him. “It is completely unacceptable.”

\------------------

“No,” Fuyuhiko echoed coldly. “No, it’s completely unacceptable.” He continued glaring at her as she stared straight ahead down the hallway. Her expression was blank, but something about it made Despair twist sickeningly in his stomach, fire off in starbursts through his brain. Eager. Excited. Ravenous.

“You wanna keep up that streak of making me look bad,” he snapped, “Or are you gonna lean the fuck down so I can hit you with some dignity?”

\------------------

“Yes, Oyabun. I apologize.” Peko proceeded to kneel in a _seiza,_ the bottom of her sheath hitting the floor as she kneeled and pulling the strap against her torso uncomfortably. That wasn’t what mattered now, but with all of the sudden tension, it felt like a small, unnecessary irritation to focus on -- a tightness in her chest, both internally and externally. Something that was so easily preventable, but also something she couldn’t avoid. She kept her gaze forward, but didn’t make eye contact. The Oyabun's punishment would be swifter and more merciful if she didn’t react. Whether that was out of respect, or because his Despair would grow bored, Peko did not know.

\------------------

Despair rushed upward through Fuyuhiko, a roaring static of pleasure-beyond-pain that drowned out the rest of the universe as Peko knelt before him. He raised his arm across his chest, ready to backhand her as hard as he could across the face, his world reduced to a pinprick of need, the overwhelming urge to hurt her hurt her _hurt her hurt her HURT-_

“FUCK!” Fuyuhiko shouted as the motion pulled at already-sore muscles and pain shot suddenly down his arm. He dropped it hurriedly without hitting her and grabbed at his shoulder, hissing through gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck, fucking… shit ass goddamn _gunshot wound!”_

\------------------

Peko’s eyes flickered to the oyabun’s face briefly in concern, before immediately looking ahead again; the only reaction she would have to her Master’s sudden outburst. The mood, which had been tense and oppressive, shifted into something else. It seemed that, for now, the moment had passed. It didn’t necessarily save Peko from her punishment, but it would postpone it. Peko knew it was coming, now. It would give her more time to mentally fortify herself against it. 

(Sometimes, Peko wasn’t sure if that was better for her, or worse.)

For now, she awaited orders to assist with the Young Master’s wound. Hopefully he hadn’t caused said wound to reopen.

\------------------

That split second of distraction was all it took for the urge to pass, and Fuyuhiko emerged from a long and repetitive string of explicatives to find Peko still kneeling patiently on the floor in front of him.

“Oh, stand the hell up, I’m not in the mood anymore,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely at Peko to get to her feet. “Just… fuck, I don’t know. Don’t let it happen again.”

He leaned heavily against the nearest wall, taking a moment to compose himself as that wave of Despair slunk, disappointed, out of his brain, slowly draining away and leaving him twice as tired and sore and irritable as before. Now wasn’t the time to throw himself carelessly into the high of Despair, he reminded himself firmly. If anything, he needed to be more responsible about that now than ever, with Chiaki living under the same roof.

Speaking of which… “That wasn’t the problem I meant to talk to you about, anyway.”

\------------------

Peko resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief at the Young Master’s insistence that mood had, indeed, passed. She stood up from her _seiza_ , quickly adjusting her sheath to a more comfortable position while doing so. 

“What is the issue?” Peko asked, her face and posture not indicating what has almost occurred in the slightest. “I’ll see to it that it’s resolved as quickly as possible.” 

\------------------

Still leaning against the wall, Fuyuhiko rubbed at his shoulder in small motions, trying to work the ache out of it, as if doing so would work the Despair out of his head as well. “Chiaki,” he said simply. “Never realized it until today, but Chiaki is one huge goddamn problem.”

\------------------

Peko was wary of where this particular subject was headed. She had known that the Young Master wouldn’t want Chiaki to attempt to cure him of his Despair, but she didn’t think he would go so far as to consider Chiaki a _problem._ She hadn’t thought that she would have to do anything about Chiaki so… soon. Or so suddenly. However, as a tool, it was not her place to act surprised. _If things go south, ditch me_ was still the plan they’d agreed upon, after all.

(In practice, it was not turning out to be a very good plan. But it was not Peko’s place to question Chiaki, either.)

Peko subtly moved closer to the Young Master so that, if he so chose, he could use her as a crutch for the remainder of the trip back to his room. She didn’t offer anything aloud; the Young Master would make the choice, if it was needed. “What would you have me do, Young Master?”

\------------------

With a little effort, Fuyuhiko pushed himself away from the wall again and gladly accepted Peko’s silent offer of assistance, leaning against her instead of the wall. As they started walking again he glanced up at her, striding purposefully by his side with smaller than usual steps, so that his legs (just slower because he was exhausted, not because they were that significantly shorter than hers, seriously) could easily keep up.

“Don’t repeat this to anyone, and that’s an order,” he said tiredly. “But… It’d be real easy to make her Despair, if we wanted to. For some reason, I just don’t want to. Feels like a waste.”

It was a controversial thing to say, something most of the other Remnants wouldn’t understand. But he wasn’t afraid to state it so bluntly. He had nothing to hide from Peko.

\------------------

Peko was both relieved to hear the Young Master didn’t want to try and push Chiaki into Despair, and surprised that he wasn’t angry at Chiaki. She didn’t say anything -- not repeating it to “anyone” did tend to include the person who said it, after all. It also wasn’t her place to say what the Young Master did or didn’t think was “a waste”. She simply nodded, showing that she was listening to him and that she understood what he was saying.

\------------------

Fuyuhiko considered exactly how to ask this, and finally settled on, “How… _convincingly_ do you think you can pull off… not being in Despair? Not around anybody else, just her. If we can convince her she’s accomplishing something, then it might keep her-” He almost said “keep her hopes up” and very nearly choked on the words. “It might- encourage her,” he managed instead. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been making an effort on that front too. The real trick will be to make it just convincing enough. Give in too fast, and she’ll realize it’s an act. She’s not stupid.”

\------------------

Peko almost stumbled; out of all the things she had expected him to ask of her, that had certainly _not_ been it. She continued to keep her face carefully neutral, while digesting the order. If he felt this way about Chiaki, did that mean…? No, of course not. Considering what almost occurred not even five minutes ago, it was much too soon for that. However, this might also prove Chiaki’s point from a previous conversation; that perhaps, deep down, he was still aware of what he truly wanted.

Peko stifled a smile, even as her spirits lifted, being sure to keep her usual calculated expression of calm. “Of course, Master Fuyuhiko.”

\------------------

Fuyuhiko nodded shortly. Of course Peko could handle something like this. She’d already gone a long way towards befriending Chiaki. “Right. One more thing. Based on Kazuichi’s reaction, I think it’s safe to assume the other Remnants would absolutely try to kill her if they found out about any of this.” _And try to kill us if they found out we weren’t stopping her,_ he thought, but did not mention. “So we keep this between us. Try to avoid anyone finding out she’s even alive, if we can, but definitely keep her little plan to ourselves. Cat’s out of the bag for Kazuichi, but we can handle him. Teruteru… hasn’t caused problems yet, so he’s probably not going to. Izuru’s not gonna say shit. But somebody like Sonia, or the Imposter… better if nobody knows. Damn, what a mess.”

Peko didn’t really need the order. She had enough discretion to come to that same conclusion, but her silent stoicism was easy to bounce ideas off of, figure out problems and solutions as if talking to himself. Fuyuhiko massaged his aching shoulder again, which was not thanking him for staying up all night and playing video games, and added, “We ever get IDs on that mob? I could use a real simple problem I can shoot to death, right about now.”

\------------------

Peko agreed with that assessment, though Chiaki herself would be harder to convince of this fact. It was dangerous to allow the others to discover that she was still alive. The Young Master had welcomed her with open arms, and even that hadn’t come without incident. Everyone would react differently, and even if Kazuichi and Teruteru weren’t a threat, that didn’t mean it would be the same for the other Remnants.

However, the Young Master decided to change the subject to different matters -- mainly, revenge. Though it wasn’t necessarily something that would be encouraged by Chiaki… Peko wouldn’t mind getting a little bit of that herself. “Of course, Young Master. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

\------------------

In the back room of a long-abandoned coffee shop somewhere in the corrupted, Despair-rotted remains of what had once been Nishi-Shinjuku, someone had set up a temporary office.

The walls were papered with maps and photos and files. Someone had dragged several of the cafe tables inside and shoved them together into a sort of desk, strewn with manilla folders of hard-won intel organized with a bizarre, undecipherable system. A standard issue Future Foundation laptop glowed dully in the dim lighting. The pride Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu held in allowing his ragged and empty-eyed tenants to keep their amenities - plumbing, power, internet - would be his undoing.

Hours ago, a file had been sent from that laptop which the owner of this office had risked everything to acquire. Not only her own life, sneaking into Fuyuhiko’s manor while the mobs and riots she’d whipped up throughout the city distracted and delayed him in the streets, pulling his guards away, but the life of every person in that mob. She’d sacrificed them for this. She was so sharply aware of that. She hoped it would be worth it.

Somehow, it had all gotten back to Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. He’d looked into the dead, she learned later. Tracked down their families. Tortured it out of them. Her face was a hard one to disguise, and an easy one to remember. It had been broadcast on international television, after all. The entire world knew her name.

She’d been hiding behind the door when Fuyuhiko came in with the stoic, straight-backed form of Peko Pekoyama behind him, both outlined in the dim glow of that laptop. (The file was already sent. There was nothing he could do to stop it from reaching Makoto Naegi, not even if he killed her.) She had a metal folding chair in her hands, to use as a bludgeoning weapon. It was a split second decision. The brutal math of the situation was clear: whichever Remnant she swung at, the other would undoubtedly capture or kill her. But she might be able to deal one a swift, killing blow before they could stop her. Who was a greater threat to the world, Peko or Fuyuhiko?

Kyoko picked a Remnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyoko Kirigiri was played by RedPen too, by the way.


	7. Kyoko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki and Mori the guard were played by Blueflame91. Kazuichi and Kyoko were played by RedPen.

The house was eerily quiet today.

When Chiaki abandoned her “gamer lair” sometime around noon to grab more snacks, she hardly saw anyone. There were staff in the kitchen that gave her chips and a bag of fun-sized Kit Kats, and informed her that the tail end of yesterday’s riots were still causing trouble all over the city. They’d been a lot more widespread than Chiaki realized. Apparently it wasn’t a targeted attack on Fuyuhiko’s car, but a wide net of chaos that they couldn’t help but drive right into eventually. Most of the scary-looking guards she was so used to seeing in the hallways were out there right now, helping with the… Well, “cleanup” was the word the kitchen staff used, but Chiaki had a feeling it was a lot more… violent than that.

Which meant the house was almost empty today. No soft footsteps, no quiet murmurs, no men in black suits pretending not to follow her around… nothing. Even the guards that Fuyuhiko had assigned to her bedroom door hadn’t returned yet. (Not that she needed them, but they were fun company sometimes, especially for multiplayer games.) It sort of felt like she was in Silent Hill.

Chiaki thought about going back to her room and continuing her Story Mode playthrough of the Super Smash Brothers game Fuyuhiko was letting her borrow. (Seriously, there were way too many consoles and games Fuyuhiko just “happened” to have in his house. Chiaki was beginning to wonder if he was just a Secret Gamer and didn’t want to admit it.) But with no one following her around to gently but firmly usher her away from the forbidden zones, this might be the best opportunity she ever got to explore the whole house.

So, she wandered. 

The house was _huge_ , there was no way there wasn’t _someone_ here to hang out with. Was Fuyuhiko in his office today? Maybe she could go pay him a visit! She hadn’t done that yet, but if she knocked it’d work out, right? That’s what Fuyuhiko said. Chiaki nodded to herself and walked back toward the staircase in the foyer, before hearing a sharp, sudden shout beside her. Her head snapped around to stare at the door to her right. Unguarded like the others, but… that was the “tornado shelter,” wasn’t it?

Someone was talking behind the unguarded door -- it didn’t sound like Fuyuhiko, Peko, or Kazuichi, which was disappointing, but it did sound familiar. Granted, Chiaki had made so many new friends while staying with Fuyuhiko, it was guaranteed to be _someone_ she knew. It seemed to be a pretty one sided conversation, though. What was this guy shouting about? Chiaki hovered there for a moment, considering whether or not she should peek inside, when the voice suddenly got louder, and the loud thump of something hitting the floor hard came through the door. Chiaki moved before she could think about it; what if he was _hurt_?

The door was (definitely not supposed to be) unlocked, and Chikai threw it open and froze. 

The man in question was a scar-faced yakuza with muscles like steel cables and the top of an elaborate dragon tattoo peeking out from his collar as it wound up his neck. His head turned sharply to look at Chiaki as the door swung open.

“Mori?” said Chiaki, because this guy used to visit her in her old holding cell in the basement, and had opened her eyes to the magical world of old school two-player games. (She had yet to beat his high score in Pong, but she was getting there.)

But the scene in front of her was less like Pong and more like Castlevania. Mori stared back at her with horror equal to what was blooming on Chiaki’s own face. One of his hands was gripping a knife, brandishing it at the woman who was tied to a chair in front of him. His other hand had a savage grip on her long hair, his fingers wound through it near the roots as he pulled at it and forced her, and the entire chair, upwards, until it was balancing precariously on its back two legs. The woman looked…

Frankly, she looked like the end result of a fighting game, but Chiaki wasn’t about to say _that_ out loud. 

“Miss Na--” Mori paused and cleared his throat, before trying again, a little more formally. “Miss, Master Kuzuryu asked you not to enter this room.”

“What are you doing?” Chiaki asked, ignoring his scolding. Her voice sounded more nonchalant than she was feeling. She was mostly shocked, but that was slowly starting to ebb away. 

“Miss, you need to go back to your room now. Where are your guards?” 

“Put her down.” Chiaki snipped, her emotions starting to catch up with her mind. The longer she spent in this room, the more she could tell this woman wasn’t the _first_ to be here. 

This room felt like the world outside. Full of suffering.

“Miss, I --” 

“Let her go!” Chiaki walked up to the man, whose hand snapped open immediately. Chair and all, the bruised and beaten woman teetered and crashed unceremoniously to the floor again. Chiaki was feeling a swirl of emotions, fire at her heels as she stepped around the chair and strode purposefully into Mori’s personal bubble. Mori backed away. 

“Miss, you can’t stay here, Master Ku--” 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Chiaki interrupted, and Mori continued to back up, looking chastised and confused as to why. “This isn’t right!”

“Miss, please, this is my job-” Mori began.

“Well, now you’re on break,” she shot back firmly, narrowing her eyes at him, all the rage of a 5’2” most-likely-twenty-something boiling in her. Mori continued to stand there, looking baffled at the current state of the universe, as Chiaki lost interest in him and turned back to the young woman on the floor. Her anger didn’t dissipate -- she’d have to have a long, serious talk with Fuyuhiko later. She didn’t know _what_ was going on, but making sure the other girl was okay was more important than yelling at anyone right now. 

Chiaki knelt down next to her, not really sure what to do but wanting to help. “Uhm…” Chiaki started, not sure where to go from here. “Hi.”

\------------------

Kyoko Kirigiri had been prepared for physical torture. She’d braced herself for it; steeled herself to the idea that her life was essentially forfeit from the moment Peko Pekoyama’s arm shot out and took the blow from her folding chair before it could make contact with Fuyuhiko’s skull. She’d failed, and they’d caught her, but there was nothing they could do to break her body that would make her spill the Future Foundation’s secrets. And she was well aware that Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, or whatever lackeys he’d set to question her, would eventually realize that.

So something more psychological was inevitable. She’d been expecting it.

The girl kneeling next to her was all wide innocent eyes, her voice kind, her concern backed by the righteous indignation of _how dare they do this to you,_ a perfect counterpoint to the man who’d just been brandishing a knife at her. In other words, it was classic Good Cop Bad Cop. If Fuyuhiko thought she’d fold this easily, then Despair had made him a fool.

Her chair still toppled and lying sideways against the floor, Kyoko coughed and spat blood across the dirty tile. (Not a lot, she’d just bitten her tongue. They’d yet to do anything _truly_ serious to her.) The question was, how to handle the good cop? This seemingly innocent girl was obviously a member of the Kuzuryu Clan, someone a lot higher on the food chain than Kyoko’s torturer. The way she was able to admonish him with a few quick words, put fear in his eyes with a few steps forward, was an obvious indication of that.

Even through the pain, the gears of Kyoko’s mind were quickly turning. Should she pretend to fall for this, and seize the opportunity for some lighter treatment, maybe feed this girl some false information until somebody caught on? Or remain defiant in the face of clear manipulation? Cement in Fuyuhiko’s mind that she was _smarter_ than him, that she’d see through whatever he threw at her?

(Or _had_ she seen through it? Was there some deeper game at play here, something she couldn’t begin to guess? Was she overthinking things, or was she not overthinking enough? It was just too… obvious.)

All this went through her head in an instant, her face betraying no emotion, her eyes (eye, one was swollen shut) coldly taking the girl in, cataloging every detail of her, and every detail of how the man with the knife reacted.

“Hi,” she said.

\------------------

Chiaki gasped as the young woman coughed up blood, and reached out and wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. Fuyuhiko would probably freak out a little about the bloodstains later, but it wasn’t _her_ blood. He’d get over it. 

“Do you need to sit up? You probably do, right?” Chiaki asked, looking at the chair like it was a puzzle to solve. She gave a determined little nod to herself, grabbing the sides of the chair, and attempted to hoist her into a sitting position. It took some doing, mostly because it was awkward, but she got the girl’s chair upright eventually. Chiaki walked around to look at her and tilted her head to the side, peering at the girl’s face curiously. She was very purple -- the undertones of her silver hair, her intense eyes… (well, eye, one of them was swollen shut). Her outfit was black, but _everyone_ in Fuyuhiko’s house wore black, so that wasn’t different.

As Chiaki got a better look at the girl’s black eye, she frowned, turning back to Mori, who was still standing there and gripping the knife somewhat uselessly. Chiaki pouted at him, and he gave her a confused look until he noticed what she was looking at and quickly put the knife down. 

“You should get her an ice pack.” Chiaki said, looking back at the girl in front of her. “Her face is already bruised really bad, but ice will help with the swelling. ...I think.”

“Miss, the boss is gonna kill me,” Mori said.

“Please?” Chiaki gave him that irresistible puff-cheeked pout, and he sighed -- heavy and despondent. 

“Fine, I’ll get her ice, but don’t do _anything_ until I get back, okay?” Mori walked towards the door, and Chiaki sulked at him as he walked away. She turned her attention back to the girl in the chair, who seemed to just be… staring at her, not making any attempt to stand up.

Oh! She was still tied up. 

“Do you want me to untie you?” Chiaki asked. “I can! It might take me a little bit to figure out the knot, though.”

\------------------

Sitting her upright. The offer of an ice pack (which might or might not actually arrive, Kyoko knew how this worked), and even suggesting they untie her. All offered by a friendly looking girl about her own age. No, this was textbook Good Cop, and Kyoko sighed heavily. She’d come to a decision. She would not play this game.

“And then what? You untie me, and then what will you do? Because what I’ll do is bring my elbow up into your windpipe, and run for the door when you’re incapacitated. So who’s out there right now, waiting to catch me? Your friend with the knife?”

She leaned forward, as much as her bonds would allow, her eyes fixed coldly on the girl. “Or maybe nobody’s out there. How far will you let me run? Will I make it to the end of the hallway, and turn the corner, and be shot in the knees? Maybe as far as the garden, before your boss’s men surround me and drag me back. Or maybe I’ll get out into the city, and believe myself free, and then something you’ve drugged me with will kick in and I’ll wake back up in this room again, screaming that I was _so close_ to freedom. I know how you people think.”

She sagged back into the chair, exhausted and hurting, and closed her eyes. “But if you’re set on carrying out this ruse, untie me. You know I’m no stranger to rigged games. Just… tell me when you’re ready for me to run.”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked as the girl went off on her tirade, threatening her and saying that she’d run and…well, Chiaki didn’t necessarily blame her, if she thought about it. Even if it _was_ scary to hear. She’d been treated pretty badly, so she was just scared. Probably. 

“I’m sorry Mori hurt you,” Chiaki said instead, looking miffed about it before turning her attention back to the girl in the chair. “He’s not a bad guy, usually. He’s pretty good at Pong, and he’s fun to play games with.” After a moment of resentful silence, Chiaki realized that this girl probably didn’t really care about Pong (which was _awful,_ but normal, sadly) so she continued on. “It’s probably not good for you to be tied up like that. You’ve been hurt pretty bad, right?” 

Chiaki moved so that she was behind the girl, then sat down and started working on the knot. Her mind was spinning, trying to come up with a solution for this. Fuyuhiko had a reason for torturing this girl, probably. But it was most likely a stupid, Despair kind of reason, so he couldn’t be too mad if Chiaki let her go.

“I can help you leave, if you want. I know you don’t trust me, but that’s okay. You’re hurt, and scared too, probably. Maybe we can find a doctor somewhere.”

\------------------

“If you regret that I’m hurt, you shouldn’t have hurt me,” said Kyoko icily. She could feel the girl tugging at the ropes, working her fingers through the complicated knot. Or inspecting it? Kyoko hoped fervently that the girl didn’t notice the frayed threads from where she’d been silently rubbing the rope back and forth against the edge of the chair, letting friction do the agonizingly slow work of freeing her. (It would be so much faster with a metal folding chair. She’d practiced that a dozen times at home, but Kuzuryu was smart. Her chair was wood, old enough to have its hard angles worn smooth and rounded.)

“As for scared… the Remnants of Despair don’t frighten me,” she added. “You can tell your boss that. They’re a bunch of destructive children with overpowered toys. I pity them.”

If she could get a rise out of any of them, appeal to their anger, maybe someone would make a mistake. A game less rigged by even a hair would still be a game less rigged.

\------------------

Chiaki paused while working through the knot, looking at the back of the girl’s head with furrowed brows. Boss? Did… did this girl think she was helping Fuyuhiko with this?

Fuyuhiko was her friend. She wasn’t _not_ on his side, she just… wasn’t on his side about the Despair stuff. She probably shouldn’t tell random strangers about that whole complicated mess, though. Especially strangers she’d found in Fuyuhiko’s “tornado shelter”; that could come back and make things worse for both of them later.

Better to just not explain her relationship with Fuyuhiko, then. Probably.

“I didn’t know that you were here,” she said instead, continuing to pull at the knot and figure out how to undo it. “Fuyuhiko doesn’t tell me about that sort of stuff. He knows I don’t like it. I know he can’t help it sometimes, but...” Chiaki paused again, suddenly feeling sad about this situation. “I’ll talk to him about it. He can’t do this to people. It’s not right.”

\------------------

The gears in Kyoko’s head ground to a stop for a moment, and switched directions as she parsed that. There was… a lot of information there, and it hadn’t been information she’d been expecting.

“You’re on first name terms with him,” she said slowly, musing. She’d known she wasn’t dealing with another low-status mook, but this girl was higher in the organization than she’d realized. Someone who could petition Fuyuhiko directly, someone who spoke like she was a personal friend of his. _He can’t do this to people, it’s not right_ was obviously an act, a part of the game, but the rest hadn’t sounded like a slip of the tongue. They _wanted_ her to have this information.

This girl, whoever she was, was obviously a master of mental chess. She was outplaying Kyoko at every junction, ten steps ahead and thinking in circles around her. Impressive. Insidious. Who _was_ this?

Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask directly. The worst she could get was a lie. “Who are you?”

\------------------

Chiaki smiled a little. Maybe the girl was starting to trust her a little bit? She hoped so. Chiaki didn’t really know how this sort of stuff worked. 

“Oh! I didn’t say that before, sorry. I’m Chiaki Nanami. The Ultimate Gamer. What’s your name?” She gave a tug to the knot, accidentally making it tighter instead of looser. Dang it. “Sorry, I think I messed up with the knot. Give me another minute to undo it, okay?”

\------------------

_A Remnant of Despair._

Kyoko’s blood turned to ice. The name Chiaki Nanami was horribly familiar. One of the missing students of Hope’s Peak class 77-B, presumed dead until they began resurfacing one by one as global terrorists. Kyoko stiffened slightly as her bonds “accidentally” tightened. She was trapped in a room with a Remnant of Despair, tied to a chair while the girl’s bloodstained hands repeatedly brushed up against her own. Was the girl behind her grinning, that horrible look of Despair swirling in her eyes at the knowledge that Kyoko finally had enough of the facts to figure it out?

“You know who I am,” she said, carefully. “And… I suspect I know who you are as well, Chiaki Nanami. Should we drop the pretense and have a real conversation?”

\------------------

Chiaki blinked. The knot became looser, but now Chiaki was more focused on her confusion than the rope. “I know you?” She thought hard for a moment, trying to remember if this girl looked familiar at all. She supposed she looked kind of familiar... maybe she was some sort of famous person?

“I don’t really, I think,” she said, furrowing her brows. “I was in a coma for a while, so I missed a lot. I mean, I missed the end of the world, so...”

The rope finally came loose enough for her to start unwinding it. She moved slowly, standing up behind the girl and looping the rope over her head. “If you don’t trust me with your name, I can call you a nickname instead, if you want! How about…” Chiaki thought about it, looking at the back of the nameless girl’s head with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows; silver-purple hair and serious eyes… Chiaki nodded. “Eifie. Like in Pokemon!”

\------------------

And just like that, Kyoko was free. Or as free as she could be with a Remnant of Despair at her back and one of Fuyuhiko’s men most likely still hovering just outside the doorway. Kyoko stood up, shakily, one hand grasping the chair for support. (She wasn’t that badly hurt, she really wasn’t. She could run if she had to. But THEY didn’t know that, and right now, anything they didn’t know was a weapon.) 

Elbowing Chiaki in the throat and making a run for it suddenly sounded like a very bad plan. It might have worked on a low-level underling, but a Remnant of Despair wouldn’t be taken out so easily.

“Thank you,” she said carefully, looking back at Chiaki and absolutely not meaning it. There didn’t seem to be any Despair in those eyes. “And… Eifie is fine.”

 _She HAS to know my name. What does she gain by pretending not to? Unless it’s to add credence to her coma story - to claim she was out for the time period the killing game took place. Is that meant to convince me she isn’t a Remnant? That she couldn’t have helped end the world?_ She was thinking in circles, second and third and fourth-guessing herself. Chiaki was toying with her.

On the pretext of needing to lean against the chair for a moment, pretending to gather her strength, pretending to be too weak to run, Kyoko made conversation. “You went missing along with the rest of the 77th class, Chiaki. You probably know that you were all presumed dead, until they started resurfacing as… this. You’re saying you’ve been in a coma that entire time?”

\------------------

Chiaki smiled at the girl in front of her, glad that she seemed to trust her enough to not attack her right away. That was a good thing, right?

Well, probably.

However, at the news that her classmates had been missing for a while -- until recently, anyway -- she was a little surprised. She hadn't known her classmates went into hiding, though it made sense in retrospect. She nodded in response to Eifie’s question, though, wanting to be honest.

"Yep," she said. "My friend Hajime took care of me after --" 

She trailed off, the words sticking in her throat. Remembering the feeling of elation and freedom as she reached the end of that maze, only to be met with what _Junko_ assumed was death… or maybe Despair? (Well, if she was being literal, then she’d been met with spears.) Chiaki didn't know. It wasn't like there was much of a difference; the end result would have been the same no matter what.

Suddenly, Chiaki's mouth felt like there was ash in it, and her stomach plummeted as if she was falling down an elevator shaft. She averted her gaze while covering her torso, hiding scars that Eifie couldn't see. "Uhm. After everything.”

\------------------

The name Hajime struck a familiar chord, though Kyoko got the feeling that she’d have to carefully go over her old case notes to remember why. She was distracted from the thought, however, by the sudden skew of Chiaki’s mouth, the tightness around her eyes. Chiaki’s arms wrapped around herself, and Kyoko tensed and braced herself for the inevitable fit of violent Despair.

\------------------

Chiaki shook her head sharply and lightly smacked her cheeks, before giving Eifie a soft smile. That _hadn’t_ been the end result, she reminded herself. She was here, and she was alive. “Basically, Hajime said it's been a few years and I have a lot of catching up to do. So I'm sorry that I don't recognize you."

Chiaki gave a small bow of apology as she said that, while subtly taking a breath in and trying to force herself out of her sudden funk. Eifie was already scared; Chiaki being scared would make that worse, right? Right. 

\------------------

Kyoko was flinching away from Chikai, waiting for the explosion, but the fit didn’t come. Chiaki seemed to pull herself out of it with a bow and a smack to her cheeks, and then she was all smiles again. (But she wasn’t fooling anyone. Kyoko had _seen_ it. She would have to tread lightly, and not bring up the coma, or this Hajime, again.)

\------------------

"Did you want that ice pack?,” Chiaki asked. “Mori should be back with it soon, I think. Well, if you’re going to escape, we shouldn’t wait for him to come back, probably. If you don’t want to wait, I can help you leave."

Maybe they could sneak around in a box… if it worked for Solid Snake it'd work for them, right?

\------------------

“I can do without the ice pack,” Kyoko said carefully, because the ice pack was a manipulation tactic and wasn’t actually going to arrive. “Yes, Chiaki. I want to leave.”

 _Do with that what you will,_ she thought. _Go on, convince me you’re on my side. We’ll see how far you let this game go, Remnant._

\------------------

Chiaki’s smile turned into a determined expression and she gave Eifie a sharp nod, before walking over to the door and checking to see if the guard was on his way back yet. She didn’t see anyone in the hallway, and checked the opposite direction just in case, but… 

“There isn’t anyone here yet,” she said, looking back over to Eifie. Talk about a super lucky time to have everyone out of the house. “Do you need help walking?

Chiaki silently hoped that Eifie wasn’t hurt _that_ badly; it’d be a lot harder to sneak her out if she was. Not that Chiaki wouldn’t try, either way. “We need to hurry. I don’t think Fuyuhiko wants you to leave, but… this isn’t right. So I’ll help you. He can be mad at me if he wants to be; I can take him!” Chiaki gave Eifie a broad smile, trying to project an aura of _everything’s fine and no one will get in trouble for this._

Well, Mori might. Chiaki would just have to explain the situation to Fuyuhiko later.

\------------------

Kyoko wasn’t satisfied until she had checked the hallway herself, answering Chiaki’s question by walking across the room and peering cautiously over the other girl’s head, out into the hallway beyond. Chiaki was right, and Kyoko’s theory was wrong: the man with the knife was not waiting outside to catch her.

“…Alright,” she said. She didn’t trust Chiaki. But she didn’t have a lot of options, either. “Let’s get out of here. Lead the way.”

There were no guards patrolling the long corridors, only the occasional cleaning staff, hurrying along on their own errands. With caution and careful timing, the two of them crept along, sometimes dodging into empty rooms to avoid being seen, listening at the door until the sound of footsteps passed them by. Chiaki had seemed the type to be a chatterbox, but to Kyoko’s surprise she took the whole thing relatively seriously - babbling in a low voice about some video game when the halls were empty, but going abruptly silent whenever anyone was nearby. Kyoko got the odd impression that the other girl was doing it deliberately, trying to lighten the mood.

And then they were at the end of a hallway just beyond the grand entryway, and Kyoko, peeking around the corner, could actually see the door. There was a guard standing to either side of it - the first members of Fuyuhiko’s security staff they’d seen all day - and she could see the subtle, hidden wires of some kind of security system running along the doorframe. So close, and yet utterly impassable. “Now what?” she whispered to Chiaki. 

\------------------

Chiaki’s brow furrowed when she saw the guards waiting beside the door. She had known that the front door was usually guarded - she did _live_ here, after all - but knowing it and actually having to deal with it were two different things. Her cheeks puffed out in a pout, the gears of her mind trying to come up with some kind of strategy to get around everyone.

Granted, there didn’t seem to be a lot of hiding places in the foyer… and it wasn’t a good idea to just run through the front door, especially since Eifie was injured; she wouldn’t be able to fight. If this were a video game, Chiaki could just cheese it and beat the crap out of these guys, get the XP and move on, but someone else’s life could be at stake. She should take that into consideration, right? Probably.

“Maybe we can put you in a disguise?” she whispered back, more thinking out loud than anything else. “Or we can find another exit?” She only knew about the staff entrance, but that would probably also have guards by it, or at the very least people who worked for Fuyuhiko. The maids wouldn’t pull guns on them, but they’d definitely sound an alarm if Chiaki just walked an escaped prisoner through the mudroom. So that wasn’t really an option. Maybe she could track down Peko or Kazuichi, and ask them? Big houses like this always had some sort of secret exit, right? That made sense. Probably. She was starting to regret not paying more attention on the initial tour of the house…

“I’ll get you out, though!” She gave Eifie a smile, doing her best to stay positive. “I promise.”

\------------------

Kyoko narrowed her eyes, looking away from the door at last and down the corridor from which they’d come. The house was… eclectic, she’d noticed. An unusual fusion of western opulence trying to follow a traditional Japanese layout, and failing. There were tall windows all along the ground floor hallway behind them. It would make a lot of noise to break one, and the ornamental gratings would be hard to remove, but…

Kyoko stepped over quietly and began running her hands across the window frame. “Do any of these windows open?” she murmured. She couldn’t find a latch. Of course, the windows on the ground floor wouldn’t be designed to open; not in the mansion of a yakuza leader. Maybe if they backtracked upstairs, they’d have better luck with the upper story windows, and she could tie some curtains together and lower herself down? Then the only challenge would be escaping the property unseen.

“No, nevermind, I see that they don’t. Just walking out the front door isn’t going to work. We need to regroup and think of a better plan.”

 _That’s right,_ she thought. _See how I’m falling for it? See how much I trust you?_

\------------------

Chiaki watched as Eifie looked to the windows, seeing if they could open. Chiaki looked as well; it didn’t seem like it, and Eifie came to the same conclusion soon after.

“Yeah, okay.” Chiaki whispered, moving around Eifie and taking her gloved hand, quickly walking away from the front door and towards a different stairwell. “Maybe we can go back to my room and think of something there? People don’t usually mess with me when I’m playing games alone, so nobody’s going to barge in on us, even if they’re looking for an escaped prisoner. It won’t take very long to get there, just stay by me and we’ll be okay! Probably.”

\------------------

The gears of Kyoko’s brain continued to turn, chewing up the endless stream of new information that was Chiaki Nanami. She was _definitely_ a dangerous Remnant, if Fuyuhiko’s men feared her enough to avoid her room.

“Your catchphrase is not encouraging,” she murmured quietly, which wasn’t a no.

\------------------

Chiaki guided Eifie through the halls once more, talking quietly when she was able to and doing her best to assure her new friend that everything was going to be okay. She made sure to use an alternate route and avoid the ‘Tornado Shelter’ this time, using one of the smaller back staircases. Chiaki didn’t know if anyone had discovered Eifie was gone yet, but Mori would certainly freak out and raise the alarm as soon as he got back, so the inevitable manhunt was only a matter of time.

She let go of Eifie’s hand when they arrived at her room, quickly opening the door and guiding Eifie inside before closing it behind her. She let out a heavy sigh, suddenly emotionally exhausted, before turning around and --

\-- seeing Kazuichi holding her partially disassembled GameGirl and staring at Eifie as though she had developed a case of whatever disease caused zombies.

(Chiaki did her best to not wonder if Mikan was coming up with something like that in that moment.)

“Uhm. Hi Kazuichi.” Chiaki said, stepping out from behind Eifie and trying very hard to act like everything was normal. “Are you having fun with my games?” Her eyes flickered to the exposed circuitry of the Gamegirl in his hands. “You’re gonna put that back together, right?”

\------------------

Kazuichi dropped the GameGirl and also his jaw.

\------------------

“SHSHSHShshshshhhh!” Chiaki rushed up to Kazuichi and placed her hand over his mouth. “This is a secret, okay? We have to be quiet,” she whispered. “I found her downstairs being tortured. And she was hurt. So I’m helping her.”

She turned back to Eifie, who seemed… tense. 

“Sorry,” she said hurriedly, feeling like she was juggling a lot of potential disasters, suddenly. “I didn’t know he was in here. Give me a sec to talk to him, okay?”

\------------------

Kazuichi pried her hand off his mouth disbelievingly, and said in a hoarse whisper, “What the crap? Chiaki what the CRAP?! You… crap, oh crap, you let her out of Fuyuhiko’s torture room? You’re not even supposed to be IN the torture room! Wait, ah, geeze, no.” He ran his hands through his hair frustratedly, eyes wide. “No, wait, you’re not even supposed to know there IS a torture room, forget what I said about the torture room, but…”

\------------------

“You mean the tornado shelter?” Chiaki asked Kazuichi with a tilt of her head. “I thought everyone knew about it. You know, in case there’s a tornado.”

Chiaki was _absolutely_ trolling Kazuichi, but maybe it would lighten the mood.

\------------------

“Right, yeah, the… uh… the tornado shelter?” Kazuichi said blankly. “Why are we calling it a tornado shelter?”

\------------------

“Because I’m not supposed to know it’s the torture room,” Chiaki explained.

\------------------

“Ah, okay. That makes sense,” said Kazuichi, calmly, and then, _“You let her out of Fuyuhiko’s tornado shelter?!”_ He flung his arms out toward the girl standing by the doorway and watching all this with calculating eyes, and said in a panicked whine, “We gotta put her back!”

\------------------

Chiaki pouted at Kazuichi and crossed her arms, ready to fight for this. “We aren’t putting her back, Kazuichi!” she scolded. “We can’t let her get tortured like that. It’s not right!”

\------------------

“Chiaki!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes intensely. “You remember that, uh, that talk we had about _discussing our plans_ so nobody _panics?”_

The woman at the door, _Kyoko motherfucking Kirigiri,_ leader of the Future Foundation’s 14th division, watched them both impassively. Crap, why wasn’t she running?! Nobody was stopping her. She could bolt right now and it would stop being his problem! Maybe she was in shock? Yeah, maybe she’d totally frozen up at seeing a Remnant of Despair, on account of how threatening and important he was.

Maybe she’d run if he threw something at her.

His eyes snapped back to Chiaki. “No, okay, listen to me. Okay? Listen. _Listen._ We’re not hurting her. We just need to put her back where you found her, y’know?” He was talking far too quickly, his voice rising in pitch. “We can just put her back, and Fuyuhiko will never know she was missing, and we won’t get _caught,_ right? Because you _promised_ you wouldn’t do anything stupid to get me caught, Chiaki. And I promised not to bash your brains in! And we’re both! Gonna keep! Those promises!!”

\------------------

Ah. Okay, Chiaki screwed up. She let out another sigh and looked at the floor. “Kazuichi, I know I said that, but I didn’t have _time_ to talk it over with anyone. She was getting hit, and she was tied to a chair and she fell and…” Chiaki glanced back at Eifie before focusing on Kazuichi again. “I know you’re scared, and you’re doing a good job at keeping your promise. I promise to keep mine too, okay?” 

Chiaki reached out and held Kazuichi’s hands in hers, squeezing them a little in support. “Everything is going to be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you, and I won’t let anyone catch you, because I promised, and because I’m your Class Rep. I gotta lead by example, right?” Chiaki smiled, trying to be encouraging. 

“But… we can’t put her back in there, either.” She squeezed Kazuichi’s hands again, gently. “It’s not right. She’ll get hurt if we take her back there, and I don’t want that. And you don’t either, right?”

\------------------

“Okay.” Kazuichi took a deep breath. “Okay. I GET that, and I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but also, I don’t want ME to get hurt. See,” He had to explain this simply. Chiaki didn’t seem to understand. “If whoever was torturing her goes back into that room, they’re gonna see that she’s gone, right? And then they’re gonna look for her, right? And then they’re gonna find her, right? And then, they’re gonna… and you gotta follow me here, they’re gonna tell Fuyuhiko where they found her. And then Fuyuhiko’s gonna keep hurting her and also ME. So, if you think about it, like, if you REALLY THINK about it, isn’t it, y’know, less Despair, in the long run, if he’s only hurting one person? Actually? Like… okay, I know what you’re gonna say to that, but actually really just THINK about it though.”

\------------------

Chiaki made a face at Kazuichi’s idea of hurting someone to save his own skin. She couldn’t say she didn’t _understand_ what he was saying, but…

“Kazuichi, I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” she repeated, starting to fidget a bit and looking back at Eifie again. She gave her a small smile before looking back at Kazuichi. With all the looking back and forth she was doing, this conversation was starting to feel less like juggling and more like tennis.

“I promised, right? It’ll be okay. I’ll come up with a plan, and I’ll make sure that Fuyuhiko is only mad at me. But you have to trust me to make that work, okay?”

\------------------

That’s right. Not bashing her head in wasn’t the only thing he’d promised her. They’d made that contingency plan together, and he’d said he would trust her. Trust that her plans were smart, trust that she knew what she was doing, trust that she wasn’t going to throw him under the bus if things went south. (Man, it was WEIRD having a friend like that.)

“Yeah, but I don’t want him mad at you either,” he hissed under his breath, eyes flickering back to Kyoko Kirigiri, suddenly very aware of her gaze on him. “We need a plan where he’s mad at _nobody.”_ (Because he’d promised Izuru he wouldn’t let Fuyuhiko turn his wrath on her, obviously. That was why the prospect of letting her take the fall for all this was so… unpleasant.) “Which, wow, is gonna need to be a _really good plan._ You know who that is, right?”

\------------------

“Oh, yeah!” Chiaki gave Kazuichi a smile before gesturing back at the girl standing at the door. “Kazuichi, this is Eifie. Like the pokemon. I don’t know her real name.”

\------------------

Kazuichi stared. Actually, yeah. There was no way she knew who that was.

Explanations could happen in a moment; that was Kyoko Kirigiri and she was just standing there and there was an immediate, immense danger in that which he’d been completely ignoring. Kazuichi let go of Chiaki’s shoulders and pointed at Kyoko, teeth gritted and bared. “Hey, you! Get away from the door! Go… stand in a corner and don’t move and don’t talk and don’t touch anything. And then I won’t have to… uh… DESPAIR at you.”

Kyoko hesitated for a second. Then she slowly raised her hands in a cooperative, non-threatening gesture, and stepped slowly sideways away from the door. Kazuichi scrambled around Chiaki and slammed his shoulder painfully into the door in his undignified rush to lock it. Kyoko’s expression never changed from that calm, thoughtful look, with not a hint of panic in her eyes. (What, was this not a big deal to her? Was she _mocking_ them?)

“Yeah, corner. CORNER!” he repeated threateningly to Kyoko, his voice breaking, before turning to face Chiaki’s look of disappointment and saying all in one breathless rush:

“I do trust you and we’ll figure it out but if we’re gonna do this then there’s stuff you gotta _know.”_

\------------------

Chiaki pouted as Kazuichi threatened Eifie and scrambled to the door, locking it. He didn’t even bother saying ‘hi’ after she introduced him! She wasn’t usually strict on stuff like that, but as his class rep, that was _really_ rude.

However, with the explanation that there were things Chiaki didn’t know, his weird behavior made sense. Sort of. Chiaki suddenly had a feeling she was going to have a lot of moments like this. 

Deciding to unpackage _that_ potential existential crisis later, Chiaki nodded at Kazuichi in agreement. “I know I missed a lot when I was asleep,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. “So if I messed up because I didn’t have all the information, I get that, I think. But Eifie isn’t going back into the torture room, no matter who she is. I promised I would help her.” Chiaki made a determined face at the two of them, now that she could stop playing Conversation Tennis and see both of them at once. “So I will. You don’t have to help, Kazuichi, if you think it’s too risky. That’s the plan we came up with, remember?”

\------------------

Kazuichi decided that he really, _really_ hated that plan.

“Stop… saying stuff that makes me feel bad but not in a fun way!” he groaned, running a hand through his hair again. “All that, ‘I’ll do it myself if you think it’s too risky,’ and ‘Fuyuhiko will only be mad at me’ and all that junk! I’d be a jerk if I just left it at that! I’m all kinds of involved now. I said I’d do it, so you don’t have to protect me!” He paused, a look of bafflement slowly spreading across his face. “Wait, that’s what _you’re_ always saying to _me._ …Is that what I sound like?”

\------------------

“Yeah, pretty much,” Chiaki agreed bluntly.

\------------------

“No wonder you hate that.”

Kazuichi shook his head roughly. “No, never mind, not important. Chiaki, that’s Kyoko Kirigiri. She’s with the Future Foundation! I think she _runs_ part of the Future Foundation. She…” He gestured mutely, unable to find the words to express just how stupidly complicated this entire backstory was. “Tell her who you are!!” he said to Kyoko, finally.

“Am I allowed to speak now?” Kyoko said flatly.

Kazuichi pulled a monkey wrench from his pocket and waved it threateningly at her. “I never promised not to bash _your_ head in.” (He wouldn’t. But she didn’t know that, right?)

Kyoko looked from Chiaki to Kazuichi and back again. “If this is an act,” she said at last, slowly, “It’s incredibly convoluted and I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish with it.”

“I am TRYING,” said Kazuichi, in exasperation, “Not to hit you with a wrench and drag you back to the torture room! I’m trying really hard not to do that! You could be helping! A little bit? Maybe?!”

“This isn’t even good cop, bad cop anymore,” said Kyoko, unhelpfully. “This is good cop, hysterical panicking cop, which I have to say is an… unusual take on the trope.”

\------------------

Chiaki watched the two of them banter back and forth. Though actually, it seemed more like Kazuichi was trying to banter and Eifie -- Kyoko? -- was ignoring him in lieu of making observations about the conversation that he and Chiaki were having. She pouted at Kyoko’s comment about this all being an act, but if she thought about it…

Yeah, that line of thinking made sense.

\------------------

“Oh my god,” said Kazuichi, as Kyoko continued to be unhelpful. Fine, the details weren’t important anyway. He jabbed the wrench at her accusingly, and looked back at Chiaki. “She was in the killing game, and she and her boyfriend killed …Her… and she probably wants us all dead right now! So if we’re gonna save her, we gotta plan around THAT.”

\------------------

That was… a lot of confusing, unparseable pronouns. Chiaki tilted her head to the side curiously, and asked what seemed to be the most important question: “What’s a killing game?”

\------------------

Kazuichi stared at her again. “The… the killing game I was telling you about forever ago. The one with all the execution machines, y’know? _One Thousand Blows_? _Cage of Death_?” He threw his hands up in disbelief. “ _Blast Off,_ Chiaki, I know I never shut up about _Blast Off!!”_

Okay, actually… right after she woke up (when she’d been a captive audience with too much muscle atrophy to escape when he started dragging out the blueprints) he’d been ecstatically proud of those death machines, and he hadn’t shut up about them, but had he actually given her _context_ for them at any point?

“Uh… I did tell you why I built those, right?”

The blank look on Chiaki’s face was answer enough.

“Oh. Um. Oops.”

\------------------

“You could tell me now,” Chiaki suggested. Downstairs, the sounds of a panicked search were beginning, so presumably Mori had come back and discovered Kyoko missing. But nobody was going to check Chiaki’s room. Fuyuhiko was really insistent about people not barging into Chiaki’s room. (Even if Eifie… Kyoko had last been seen with Chiaki, and was really obviously in Chiaki’s room.)

So they were safe for now, probably. If somebody knocked, Chiaki could just not open the door. She could say she was naked, or something.

“Is that okay?” she asked Ei- Kyoko. “It'll be better to wait a while until the search dies down, I think. We don’t have an escape plan yet, anyway.”

\------------------

Kyoko opened her mouth to answer, and Kazuichi shushed her. “She doesn’t get a say, she’s the enemy.”

He glanced toward the door, uncertainly. “Okay, here’s the plan. Stay here and guard her, and I’ll go check out what’s going on downstairs. I’m a Remnant of Despair, so there’s no way they’ll think I’m involved in letting her go, right?”

\------------------

“Weren’t you going to explain about the killing game?” Chiaki asked, tilting her head again.

\------------------

“That’s why I’m going downstairs,” Kazuichi said firmly. “It’s a big explanation. I gotta grab some visual aids.”

“The killing game footage,” Kyoko said quietly, looking apprehensive and uncertain for the first time since she’d entered the room.

“What? No, I don’t have that. Why the heck would I have that? All my taped shows are back at my bachelor pad in the Hope's Peak tunnels. I’ll figure something out, though. Just gotta access a computer for a minute.”

\------------------

Chiaki gave Kazuichi a flat-faced thumbs up. “‘Kay. We’ll wait here. Hey, Eifie! I mean, Kyoko,” she added, as Kazuichi slunk slowly backwards out of the room, eyes focused intensely and suspiciously on Kyoko until the door swung shut between them. “Do you wanna be my player two for Smash Brothers? I’m doing the story mode right now.”

\------------------

“I also took apart your Wii,” Kazuichi shouted through the door.

Kyoko had definitely been overthinking this. These people weren’t playing mental chess, they were just idiots.

She should have run when she had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyoko Kirigiri's one-sided mental chess has been brought to you by L from Death Note, which is what we affectionately called her throughout this entire scene.


	8. Kazuichi Makes a Powerpoint Presentation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Kyoko and Kazuichi were played by RedPen, and Chiaki was played by Blueflame91.
> 
> We had to upload this chapter twice because AO3 just _would not work with us_ on those image files!

(What follows are sixty three slides detailing who got caught and the exact manner of their executions, going on at length about the schematics of the execution machines, in indecipherable engineering jargon and a hell of a lot of math. There are intricate blueprints. The spelling and punctuation is vastly improved.)

Kazuichi turned off the projector and looked over his shoulder to beam at Chiaki, like a proud and excited puppy who’d just found something dead in the bushes and dumped it on his owner’s shoes, and was now waiting expectantly to be praised for it. Kyoko’s face was utterly unreadable.

\------------------

Chiaki had watched in confusion as Kazuichi dragged Fuyuhiko’s laptop and the gaming tournament projector screen upstairs and both made, and (with much gusto) presented an entire PowerPoint presentation about the killing game that Junko had apparently set up for class 78. Seventy-one slides later, she still felt like she hadn’t learned anything about the killing game. Kazuichi seemed more focused on the machines he made for the game (which also killed people, for some reason?) but he did talk about the actual stuff that happened too, and…

Honestly, at this point, Chiaki only knew that Kazuichi had built stuff to help with the killing game, which was what he was good at. Other than that, she didn’t seem to have much more information on this than before. Chiaki looked over at Eifie -- Kyoko, actually, probably -- and said, with as happy an expression she could muster:

“Congratulations on the baby!” 

\------------------

“Thank you, there wasn’t one,” said Kyoko, flatly. 

\------------------

Chiaki waited expectantly for any further explanation. When it seemed like she wasn’t going to get one, she shrugged her shoulders up to her ears and tacked on: “Thanks Kazuichi. I think I get it now.” (She said, lying.) Chiaki made a mental note to ask Peko or Fuyuhiko to fill in more details later, if it was important, but for now she might only need to know this much. Probably.

\------------------

Kyoko continued staring at the blank projector screen for a while in dull-eyed resignation.

Sitting on the bed and making awkward small talk for two hours while Kazuichi made a powerpoint had drained the paranoia and tension out of her somewhat. Kazuichi was a Remnant of Despair, but he was… stupid was the wrong word; he was brilliant at a few very specific things. But… singleminded, maybe. Oblivious to everything but his own talent. She’d seen it before in other Ultimates, back at Hope’s Peak, but Despair seemed to have amplified it in him, turned it into a twisted sort of coping mechanism. He didn’t feel dangerous the way some of the others did.

She turned to Chiaki, and looked her over calculatingly. Chiaki could probably keep a harmless incompetence act like this going, but everything about Kazuichi screamed that he absolutely could not. Their interactions seemed genuine, which meant _Chiaki_ was probably genuine.

“You’re not in Despair,” she said to Chiaki. Not a hypothesis anymore, but a statement of fact. Her eyes went back to Kazuichi, and she went over the interactions between him and Chiaki again in her head. Something clicked into place. Something impossible, that nonetheless explained everything.

“And _you’re_ defecting.”

Kazuichi, who’d been happily distracted by the powerpoint, went suddenly stiff and tense again.

“And the rest of the Remnants don’t _know_ ,” said Kyoko, finally, looking from one to the other as relief flooded her. “That’s what’s going on here. That’s why you’re helping me. That’s the only possible way any of this makes sense.”

\------------------

"Ssshh!" Chiaki flailed a moment before pressing one of her fingers to Kyoko’s lips, seeing Kazuichi tense as Kyoko pointed out his secret. The _last_ thing that needed to happen was Kazuichi deciding that smashing someone's head in with a wrench was a viable option for self defense again.

\------------------

Kyoko batted Chiaki’s hand aside. “That reaction certainly seems like a yes.”

\------------------

Chiaki hesitated briefly, withdrawing her extended hand, and glanced over at Kazuichi nervously. She wasn’t going to purposefully tell on him to someone he didn’t even like, even if Kyoko _did_ seem really nice.

"It's not really a secret that I'm not in Despair, but also..." Chiaki turned her attention back to Kyoko, her expression thoughtful as she tried to figure out what to say next. Telling her about Kazuichi was definitely not on the table, but telling Kyoko about _herself_ was fine. Probably. "I really was in a coma for a couple of years. My friend Hajime helped me out for a while, and I'm awake now, and everyone thought I was dead for a while, and... well, I want to help." Chiaki nodded at Kyoko with a serious expression. 

"What was happening before in the tornado shelter was wrong. I want to help you so it doesn't happen again. I can talk to Fuyuhiko about it later for you, if you want. I was his Class Rep, so it's my job. I think." 

\------------------

“And _that_ was a rather clumsy deflection,” said Kyoko. Kazuichi was still standing next to the projector, his shoulders tense, his eyes flickering between them.

“I’m not not in Despair,” he said, in a high-pitched voice. “I mean I’m not in Despair. Quitting Despair. NOT quitting Despair. That… that last one. Why would I quit Despair? Despair is great and I love it and all the other available factions are kind of hot garbage, so, like, y’know, not sure why you think I’d wanna… y’know?” A long pause, and then, with a dramatic and overcompensating theatre pose: “I’m a bad guy!”

“I see,” said Kyoko, nodding calmly in the face of villainy. “Well, I don’t intend to defect from my hot garbage faction, so you’d better just kill me.”

Kazuichi stared at her in dismay, his shoulders sagging slowly. “Don’t just call my bluff like that,” he muttered. “Chiaki would yell at me.”

\------------------

“I would.” Chiaki informed Kyoko, before turning to Kazuichi. “And you shouldn’t kill people. That’s also bad.”

\------------------

Kazuichi shoved his hands in his pockets and fidgeted petulantly with his Pocket Junk, grumbling under his breath. “Don’t kill people, Kazuichi. Don’t Despair, Kazuichi. Don’t play with high voltage wires without proper safety equipment, Kazuichi. I’m not allowed to do anything fun anymore.”

“How on earth did you get him to agree to this?” asked Kyoko, astonished, as one of the world’s most prolific global terrorists pouted in front of her like a chastized child.

“Don’t drink milk directly out of the carton, Kazuichi, that’s unsanitary,” Kazuichi continued grumbling.

\------------------

Chiaki fidgeted in place for a moment, her brows furrowed in a thoughtful expression while Kazuichi sulked and Kyoko looked dumbfounded. After a couple moments of internal debate, she reached over and gently grabbed Kazuichi’s jumpsuit sleeve to get his attention.

“Can I tell her?” Chiaki muttered. Yes, Kyoko was right there and could still hear them, probably, but it was the principle of the thing. Chiaki had told Peko and Kazuichi that she was going to be better about communicating with them, and darn it she was going to make good on that promise. “She’s already figured it out, and… we’re kind of bad liars, Kazuichi.”

\------------------

“We’re _really_ bad liars,” Kazuichi agreed miserably. “Dammiiiiiit. If we give her back to Fuyuhiko now she’s totally gonna tell him everything!”

He shook his head determinedly and pulled his hands out of his pockets, clenched tightly into fists. “No! You know what, no! You don’t even _know_ us! You’re gonna come up with a bunch of libel and crap if we let you just detective it out yourself! If you hear this story, you’re gonna hear it from me!”

He flung a hand out to point at Chiaki, his eyes still fixed defiantly on where Kyoko was sitting on the bed. “Break out those kitkats and get comfy. I’m making another powerpoint.”

\------------------

“Maybe,” Chiaki said, before Kazuichi could get too excited. “Maybe this time, we just tell her? Cos Fuyuhiko is looking for Kyoko, and making another powerpoint will take a while, probably. Maybe…” Chiaki stood up and grabbed the kitkats from the bedside table, as well as a pillow, which was immediately dropped on to the floor. 

“Maybe, we can build another pillow fort? It’d be faster.”

\------------------

Kazuichi gave a dismissive huff of breath. “With _your_ grasp of structural engineering? Man, I doubt it.”

~~~~~~~

It took a while, but between the two of them Chiaki and Kazuichi were able to get Kyoko caught up, jumping in to corroborate each other’s stories or fill in gaps and correct details.

(“And she totally guilt-tripped me, right when I was at my most vulnerable!”

“You weren’t vulnerable, you were just sad that I wasn’t a robot. And I didn’t guilt-trip you! I just said I was worried about your wellbeing!”

“That’s totally guilt-tripping! Nobody’s ever said that to me before! It was emotional manipulation!”

“Kazuichi…”)

“So basically,” Kazuichi finished, through a mouthful of kitkat, “I agreed to stop doing the Despair thing, and Chiaki agreed to stop giving me that disappointed look, and nobody cried during that conversation, like, at all.”

\------------------

"Yep. That's everything, I think," Chiaki said, thinking for a moment with her eyebrows drawn. "I guess the biggest thing is that I want to help my classmates. I know they did a lot of bad stuff while I was asleep, but... they're all good people. I want to help them remember that." She gave Kazuichi an encouraging smile before continuing on, "Kazuichi’s not going to do Despair stuff anymore, and I’m working on convincing everybody else. Um… slowly. But we can all work on that together! That's what friends do; they encourage each other."

\------------------

“We’ve been operating under the assumption that you CAN’T simply ‘stop doing’ Despair,” said Kyoko, baffled. She accepted another kitkat from Kazuichi, baffled also at the fact that she was living in a universe where a Remnant of Despair was casually handing her food and she was eating it without suspicion.

“I mean, why not?” said Kazuichi. “Junko Enoshima’s not, like, my _mom_. She’s dead; I can do what I want.”

“Fascinating,” said Kyoko, staring at him like some kind of bizarre science experiment. They were all sitting in a semicircle on the floor now, atop a pile of blankets and pillows from the fort that had never really come together, Pokemon Yellow idling in the background at full volume to deter Fuyuhiko if he stopped by to check the room. 

“You really shouldn’t be able to have that mindset,” she continued. “I’ve seen your group’s propaganda. Isn’t Junko Enoshima a _god_ to you?”

Kazuichi shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I’m not the one who writes that stuff, that’s all Mahiru’s ballpark,” he muttered defensively. “I’ve never been all that religious. Don’t be judgy about it. How often do YOU pray?”

Kyoko continued to stare.

\------------------

Chiaki tilted her head to the side inquisitively. “Why would Kazuichi think Junko is a god?” she asked, obviously confused. “She’s just a person, right? I mean, she was able to convince everyone to do really bad stuff, but that makes her his boss more than his god. I think.”

\------------------

“Because he’s brainwashed,” Kyoko stated bluntly. Surely Chiaki _knew_ that, after spending so much time with these people. “Because Junko Enoshima _wanted_ to be seen as a god. ...Well she mostly wanted to create drama, but building a fanatical cult around herself was an easy way to do that. The Future Foundation has a pretty good guess at how she went about it. Something overriding and invasive, a brainwashing technique that completely rewired how their brains dealt with pain and pleasure.” 

\------------------

Chiaki blinked, silence filling the room as she absorbed _that_ information. That _did_ explain why her classmates were out and about breaking the world instead of doing _literally_ anything else, but…

Chiaki gave Kazuichi a look of concern. “You guys were brainwashed?”

\------------------

Kazuichi rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, _brainwashed_ is a strong word,” he said. “We, ah… okay, so, when you were, y’know…” He waggled his fingers in a gesture that failed to indicate spears shooting out of the floor. “… _y’know_. She, uh… She sorta recorded that, and, uh…” He trailed off, lacking the words to explain.

“So that’s what it was,” Kyoko cut in, not a hint of sympathy on her face for either of them in this awkward situation. “A video of some sort?” She nodded to herself. “That’s how she was able to manipulate the Reserve Course, after all.”

She tapped her chin with a knuckle, thoughtfully, getting lost in her own musings. “That was one of the Seventh Division’s theories. Take a recording full of chaos and tragedy, something that evokes a strong emotional response, and seed it with subliminal messages, something to stimulate the frontal cortex… and it might be possible to rewire the brain to interpret pain as pleasure. Maybe even create an artificial addiction. A constant desire for more pain.”

When she finally looked up again it was to see Chiaki looking horrified and Kazuichi dismayed and uncomfortable. “Well, that’s just a theory,” she added. “I don’t completely understand the science behind it, myself. Are they close?”

She kept her eyes fixed sharply on Kazuichi, a probing look, and he looked away, avoiding eye contact as he became suddenly very interested in the contents of his pockets.

\------------------

Chiaki's first instinct was to feel a tidal wave of guilt and horror -- this was her fault, her naivete causing her friends so much pain it had broken them. It made sense that Fuyuhiko, while in a Despair fit, had blamed her for how things were now. However, after a couple seconds of absorbing the information, she took a moment to actually think about what she was being told. 

Yes, Chiaki had been naive and stupid, but this was all still Junko's fault. _She_ was the one who put Chiaki through that maze, who brainwashed her friends with the footage she recorded, who made her friends want to hurt themselves and others. 

Chiaki took a quiet, deep breath, held it, and let it go. The guilt was still there, but manageable now. She could handle it. And either way, this wasn't about her. It was about her friends, and...

Chiaki reached over and gently poked Kazuichi in the face while he fidgeted with his pocket stuff. She gave him a brief, encouraging smile. She waited until she had his attention before asking: “Are you okay?”

\------------------

Kazuichi jerked to attention and pulled his hands out of his pockets. “What? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, I wasn’t gonna hit you or anything!” He was uncomfortably aware that he’d sort of given her the impression lately that bashing her skull in was his default response to stress. Okay, he might be _a little bit_ brainwashed, now that Kyoko mentioned it, but he wasn’t just some kind of mindless killing machine. (He just, y’know, _built_ mindless killing machines.)

He looked down at his hands, his fingers covered in a network of little scars and burn marks as they fidgeted with each other. “I just… didn’t think to mention it to you, you know? The brainwashing thing. It never came up. Wasn’t really important. It was a long time ago, and I sort of forgot it happened.” His thumb traced a scar, a spiderwebbing lichtenberg figure from an old electrical burn across his palm. “It doesn’t matter, right? I can still do what I want. If I don’t wanna be in Despair, I can decide that for myself.”

\------------------

Chiaki’s encouraging smile morphed into an expression of pure pride, her feelings of guilt fading into the background as happiness took its place. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Kazuichi, sort of accidentally pinning his arms to his sides as she gave him a tight hug. This was the first time Chiaki had heard Kazuichi say that _he_ wanted to be out of Despair, instead of saying that Chiaki was making him do it. She didn’t want to embarrass him by pointing it out, because then he wouldn’t say it again without getting weird, but…

“I’m so _proud_ of you!” she squealed into his jumpsuit, snuggling her face into his chest before looking up and resting her chin there instead, shining eyes and bright smiles directed at her friend. “You’re working so hard, and I’m really proud of you.” 

\------------------

That warm, wonderful wave of Postive Reenforcement smacked into Kazuichi all at once, and he couldn’t help but return Chiaki’s smile with a sharp-toothed grin, basking in the glory of her approval, the wonderful feeling of being wanted and appreciated. (He didn’t really understand HOW he’d earned her approval just now, but the important thing was that he’d earned enough of it for a bear hug, so he must be doing something really right. It was probably because he hadn’t hit her with a wrench.)

Kyoko was still sitting across the bowl of kit-kats from them and staring, and as that happy smile spread across Kazuichi’s face at the barest hint of encouragement and physical affection, something clicked in her head. _Oh._

\------------------

Chiaki gave Kazuichi a final squeeze before letting him go, slowly sitting back up into her own space so she didn’t accidentally slip and fall on top of him. After readjusting herself, she turned her attention back to Kyoko.

"Can you unbrainwash them?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she asked the question. “If Junko did something to their brains, can’t we undo it? Kazuichi already knows that hurting himse- hurting _people_ is bad.” Nailed it. No one knew any better. Perfection. Chiaki was so good at this. “But if his brain is, um… programmed to make pain feel good, that makes it harder to choose the right thing, probably. I know my classmates are still good people. _All_ of them are. It sounds like they just need some help remembering how to be those people. Can we…” She didn’t like talking about her friends like they were broken consoles, but she couldn’t think of a better way to word it. She at least had the decency to look sheepish when she asked the question anyway. “...can we fix them?”

\------------------

Kyoko _wanted_ to say “yes, absolutely,” because that was exactly what she and Makoto and Byakuya had been trying to do. In a forgotten and abandoned facility, on a deserted island far out of reach of the ongoing apocalypse, they were preparing what was supposed to be a miracle cure.

But Kazuichi was still beaming, lost in his own little warm and fuzzy world, and Kyoko realized with a sinking heart that it was a miracle cure she could never, ever use.

Their plans involved advanced technology and experimental re-brainwashing therapies, rewiring the brain again because it was obvious that it couldn’t recover on its own. They’d dismissed the idea that the Remnants of Despair could be reasoned with any other way, much to Makoto’s disappointment. It simply wasn’t possible, and that was science. Now she was faced with the idea that their theories were wrong.

“It’s… complicated,” she said instead.

\------------------

“Complicated?” Chiaki furrowed her brows at that, her previously good mood starting to sink a little. “Why is it complicated? Doesn’t the Future Foundation want Despair to get better?” At least, that’s what Chiaki suspected, what with both Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko treating the Future Foundation like the enemy faction in an MMO. 

Granted, both of them had _also_ mentioned within the same breath that the Future Foundation wanting them all dead, so… maybe ‘get better’ wasn’t what the Future Foundation wanted for Despair.

\------------------

“There’s a faction within the Future Foundation that thinks the way you do, Chiaki,” Kyoko explained. “Some of my allies and I have been trying to do essentially the same thing. We want to save the Remnants of Despair.”

“Great job so far,” said Kazuichi. “Especially the part where I saved you from getting tortured.”

Kyoko refrained from mentioning that _Chiaki_ had saved her from getting tortured, and Kazuichi had wanted to turn her back in. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault,” she told him instead. “We want to find a way to undo that. In that sense, it seems like we all have the same goal right now.”

Kazuichi’s sharp teeth bit through another kitkat with more force than was necessary, in a tiny show of hostility that sprayed Kyoko with crumbs. She was still technically the enemy, after all. _She_ hadn’t given him any positive reinforcement lately. “Doesn’t mean we’re letting you into the club.”

\------------------

Chiaki reached over and grabbed a kitkat -- she had gotten them for _herself_ after all, and she hadn’t even gotten to have one yet -- and she mulled things over while she opened the package and took a bit out of it. 

“What do you mean, faction?” Chiaki asked, her mouth still full of kitkat. “Doesn’t the Future Foundation talk about this kind of thing? You guys all want Despair to stop, right? If you all know that the…” Chiaki paused for a moment, hesitating before calling her friends _the Remnants_. It was kind of dumb, because that’s what they were _called_ now, but… calling her friends that made Chiaki feel weird. She used this moment to swallow her bite of kitkat, making it seem like she wasn’t being hesitant at all. “If you know that _my friends_ are all brainwashed, then wanting to make them better seems like the best thing to do, doesn’t it?”

\------------------

“Honestly, most of the organization just wants them dead,” Kyoko admitted. “If you’d brought this plan of yours to the Future Foundation, they probably would have killed you. They see anyone who spends too much time with the Remnants of Despair as corrupted. Anyone who’s sympathetic to them is a potential traitor. Their thinking is very black and white.”

“Hah, and they call US evil,” said Kazuichi, with his mouth full. “Kiiiiinda hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“I strongly suspect that some members of the Future Foundation are in Despair, and have been spreading that kind of hopeless thinking,” said Kyoko. “But knowing that just leads to more distrust.”

“Oh, right, that’s probably our fault,” Kazuichi said dismissively. “We’ve got a _lot_ of spies in the Future Foundation, spreading that around.”

Kyoko gave him a flat look.

“I mean, we don’t,” said Kazuichi, after entirely too long a pause. “We don’t have any spies. Did I say spies? You misheard me. My mouth is full.”

\------------------

“So…” Chiaki started, her cautious hope for possibly receiving some kind of assistance for this bursting like an octorok balloon. “You _want_ to help, but you can’t.” It wasn’t a question. Chiaki didn’t hide her disappointment; no matter how far along Kazuichi was (which was pretty far along at this point, considering where he had started -- Chiaki was still absolutely _thrilled_ about that), and even if Peko had already gotten out of Despair by herself, that still left _thirteen_ other people that Chiaki had to pull out of Despair. 

Granted, Fuyuhiko didn’t like the Future Foundation at all. Maybe that was for the best, for now? Chiaki didn’t know enough to be able to tell. Plus, the fact that both Fuyuhiko _and_ Kyoko had said that if Chiaki had brought this to the Future Foundation instead of talking with her friends directly, she’d have been killed? That… didn’t bode well. Probably. 

Well. For now… it was back to Plan A. 

“Well, I’m already here, and helping.” Chiaki said simply, giving Kyoko a shrug. “I was already planning on doing this by myself, so that’s fine.”

\------------------

Kyoko steepled her fingers under her chin thoughtfully. “Now, hold on. I didn’t say we couldn’t help you. I said it was _complicated.”_

“We have our own plan to reverse the brainwashing, but it’s… less than ideal. The best thing we’ve been able to come up with is an invasive virtual therapy which would overwrite vast swaths of their memories. It would work, but with the changes to their brains they wouldn’t be the same people at the end of it. We thought it would be better than letting them continue on like this. It seemed like a mercy.” She eyed Kazuichi. “Now I’m not sure.”

\------------------

Chiaki puffed her cheeks out in a pout. “Isn’t that also just brainwashing them?” she asked bluntly. 

\------------------

“Yeah, hell no,” said Kazuichi, scooting away from her, leaving smears on the blankets with his chocolatey fingers. “Screw that and HELL no. That’s totally brainwashing! I thought you were the good guys?!”

“Believe me, if we weren’t the good guys, I wouldn’t be telling you about it,” said Kyoko.

\------------------

“We’re not doing that.” Chiaki stated bluntly. Like hell she was going to hand her friends over just to be _double_ brainwashed! “We don’t need that! Kazuichi’s doing fine all by himself! He’s doing so much better than he was before, and he’s only tried to hurt someone else once since he’s stopped, and even then he said sorry!” Chiaki filled with pride again, but remained serious as she talked with Kyoko. Kazuichi was doing so _well._ “He’s going to keep doing better too, and so is everyone else! Even _if_ they’re brainwashed, they can overcome Despair by themselves!”

\------------------

“You have to understand,” Kyoko explained, in the face of Chiaki’s sudden burst of determination and pride, “We don’t want to hurt anyone. We made this plan with the assumption that it was _impossible_ for your friends to overcome Despair by themselves. We didn’t think anyone could have the willpower to resist this kind of brainwashing.”

“I’m right here, y’know,” Kazuichi grumbled, annoyed at being talked about like he wasn’t there, but mollified considerably by all the compliments and encouragement. “And you know what? I _am_ doing great. My willpower is amazing. I’ve been going cold turkey for like, six weeks. And three days. And fourteen hours.”

“Yes, I can see that you’re not at all dwelling on it,” said Kyoko.

“And twelve minutes,” Kazuichi trailed off quietly. “H-hey, that’s not the point! The point is you’re being kinda, I dunno, condescending, here. It’s not like it’s some _pitiable medical condition._ We don’t need the Fuckup Foundation to sweep in and save the day. In fact, newsflash, _we_ just saved _you_. So how about a thank you, huh?”

“Thank you,” said Kyoko, genuinely meaning it. “And yes, obviously we were wrong.”

Kazuichi, who’d been gearing up for another snippy, hostile little argument, found his brain stalling out when Kyoko agreed with him. “Oh,” he said. “Well,” he said. “No big deal. It’s, you know. Whatever.”

\------------------

Chiaki bit her lip to hide the smile that was forming. It always felt nice when new friends and old friends got along.

“So, if you’re not gonna do that,” Chiaki started, tapping her finger against her chin. “What do you want to do?”

\------------------

Kyoko spread her hands, a gesture of peacefully surrendering the floor to Chiaki. “You tell me,” she said. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. So let’s start there. You know my plan. Tell me about yours.”

\------------------

"Honestly,” said Chiaki, “I was just wanting to talk to everyone. I've only been able to talk to Kazuichi, Peko, and Fuyuhiko so far, and I tried to talk to Teruteru but..." She paused, briefly mulling over how to word this. “He wasn’t feeling well.”

\------------------

“Oh, right,” said Kazuichi. “I was still getting a handle on the stalking thing, I hadn’t really caught up with you yet. What happened with that?”

\------------------

Chiaki’s cheeks turned a vivid shade of pink, suddenly finding the hems of her sleeves very interesting. It made sense that he would, in retrospect, but Chiaki hadn’t expected Kazuichi to _ask_ about that. “Nothing much. He, uhm, Despaired at me, mostly.” 

Chiaki cleared her throat and changed the subject -- she did _not_ want to specify about any of that. 

"Anyway, my only plan was to go out and just..." Chiaki shrugged a bit before continuing. "Talk to them. They wouldn’t hurt me, I think. At least not on purpose. All I've been trying to do is remind everyone that they're good people. I'm trying to do it a little bit at a time so that things are easier."

\------------------

“And that’s working?” said Kyoko, fascinated. “I understand that they’re your friends, and you’re building on an already existing foundation of underlying trust. But everything we know about Despair says it has a biochemical origin. It’s a compulsion… no, an _addiction_. You’re overcoming all that just by asking them nicely to stop?”

Kazuichi stared at her for a moment before throwing his hands exasperatedly into the air.

“ _Yes,_ because we’re _good people!!”_

\------------------

“See?” Chiaki gestured at Kazuichi, as exhibit A. She could also see where the confusion was coming from, though. Especially since Kyoko hadn’t known Despair _could_ be fixed like this. 

"I’m not just saying ‘please stop doing Despair,’ I’m saying that I know they're better than this and they know that too. And if they want to stop I'm here for them. Besides, they did this to the world as a class, right? Since I'm their Class Rep, I've got to take responsibility too, and help them as much as I can to be the good people I know they are."

\------------------

Kazuichi reached into the snack bowl for another kitkat, came back empty handed, and casually reached over and snapped off half of the one Chiaki was holding. He gestured with it idly.

“Yeah, it’s like Chiaki said. I know good from evil. Just ‘cause bad feels good and good feels bad doesn’t mean I feel like bad is good… wait, lemme start over. Just ‘cause _doing bad things_ feels good, doesn’t mean I don’t know they’re bad things. Just means I want to do ‘em anyway, and it takes, like, willpower not to. Doesn’t mean I _have_ to. Does the Future Foundation think we’re robots or something?”

“Something like that,” Kyoko answered honestly. “We haven’t had the chance to actually sit down and talk with any of you before this point. Our information is woefully biased and incomplete.” She looked them both in the eye, seriously. “We never would have come up with a plan to brainwash you, if we had the whole story. I know for a fact that Makoto would never allow it.”

“Yeah well, Makoto’s a coward. And a nerd,” said Kazuichi, who was both of those things.

\------------------

“Who’s Makoto?” Chiaki whispered to Kazuichi out of the corner of her mouth. 

\------------------

“Chiaki, he was in the powerpoint,” said Kazuichi. “Come on, pay attention.”

\------------------

Chiaki stared blankly. That… didn’t help at all. “Was he… the palm tree?” She guessed, looking sheepish.

\------------------

“Obviously he was the egg,” Kazuichi informed her.

“Surely there were actual photos of us online you could have used for that,” Kyoko said flatly. “Our private lives were broadcast to the world, after all. I suspect it might have actually taken you LONGER just to look up all that clipart.”

“I don’t break into YOUR house and criticize YOUR educational powerpoints,” Kazuichi grumbled.

“This also doesn’t seem like your house,” said Kyoko.

“Yeah, and speaking of, Fuyuhiko would probably murder me if I showed Chiaki footage of the actual killing game and she got all traumitized and depressed or whatever. So you get clipart. Shut up.”

\------------------

“He would let me watch it, I think,” Chiaki countered. “He was the one who told me about the Reserve Course mass suicide and stuff, so I don’t think he’d think it was that big of a deal.”

\------------------

“Okay, maybe I’m the only one who thinks it’s a big deal,” Kazuichi muttered.

“Can we get back on topic?” Kyoko interrupted.

She thought about where to go from here. The Future Foundation viewed the Remnants of Despair as symbols, monsters, mindless, brainwashed killing machines. But all it had taken was one conversation with Kazuichi to realize that he was, in fact, still a human being, making his own decisions and in control of his own actions. Aware of what he was doing. Able to to tell right from wrong. Willing to change. Watching Kazuichi and Chiaki banter back and forth like old friends, it was starkly obvious that he was a _person._

The Neo World Program had long since ceased to be an option. Makoto would agree; they couldn’t mindwipe the Remnants - carve out their memories and reshape their personalities to suit them. Not if there was even the faintest hint of another option. It was too close to what Junko and the Remnants had done to class 78.

“Alright,” she said. “Let me summarize. What your plan is, really, at its core, is to treat them like people. I can’t say it’s not worth a shot. Nobody else has tried it.”

\------------------

Chiaki pouted at that. “Not just like they’re people. Like they’re my _friends._ Because they are.”

\------------------

Beside her, Kazuichi was getting weirdly blushy and avoiding eye contact again. He rubbed the back of his neck. “C’mon, Chiaki. You can’t just say stuff like that in front of the enemy.”

\------------------

“Why not?” Chiaki asked, her pout becoming more pronounced at Kazuichi’s sudden embarrassment. “It’s the truth! Right?”

\------------------

“We don’t have to be enemies,” Kyoko cut in.

She took a deep breath, going over the options in her head, steeling her decision. “Look, there are people I need to consult with before I can promise you any kind of support, but… what you’re doing is working. I don’t quite understand how, but it’s working. It would be _stupid_ not to help you with this.”

\------------------

“Like the egg person?” Chiaki asked, tilting her head slightly.

\------------------

“Yeah, stupid like the egg person,” said Kazuichi, willfully misunderstanding.

Kyoko sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that she was throwing her lot in with these people. “What use could you make of a contact in the Future Foundation?” she prompted, trying to get them back on track. “I won’t be another one of your spies; I refuse to pass on information that could be used against the organization, but I’m a branch leader. I have resources at my disposal. I’m sure I can help you.”

“Nah, we’re covered on that front,” said Kazuichi, flippantly.

“Yes, who are your spies in the Future Foundation, by the way?” asked Kyoko, and Kazuichi went stiff again.

“Ah, you’re still obsessing over that spy I didn’t say anything about? We don’t have a spy. And even if we did have a spy, which we don’t, it’s not like I’D know anything.”

“Sharing that information would be the type of thing a _good person_ would do,” said Kyoko.

“It’d also get somebody I like killed,” Kazuichi shot back, and the corners of Kyoko’s mouth twitched upward.

“Somebody you like, who doesn’t exist and you don’t know anything about?”

“This is why you had no friends at Hope’s Peak,” Kazuichi grumbled.

\------------------

Chiaki watched as Kyoko and Kazuichi went back and forth, doing her best to stifle a small laugh when Kyoko eventually cornered Kazuichi and called him out on the spy. She’d have to ask who that was later, but if Kazuichi wasn’t comfortable talking about it in front of Kyoko, she wouldn’t make him. 

“Kyoko is _our_ friend now, though!” she said, piping up at Kazuichi’s last sulky comment while looking at Kyoko with an excited expression. “I think.”

She rearranged her face in a serious expression. They had to stop wandering off-topic like this, but that was hard to do when she and Kazuichi were doing so much talking. “Hm. I’m not really sure how the Future Foundation can help me, because…” She trailed off, a little abashed. “...Because I actually don’t know anything about the Future Foundation at all? Except for Fuyuhiko’s list of insulting nicknames for them, I guess.”

\------------------

“It’s a long story, and I doubt even half of what you’ve been told about it is true,” said Kyoko.

Most of the Future Foundation’s operations were public knowledge. It wasn’t like a basic overview of the organization would give the Remnants any information that could be used against them. Kyoko launched into an explanation of the Future Foundation and its branches. Nothing specific, but a general overview of how the organization worked and what its goals were for the world. Chiaki developed a distinctly glazed expression, trying to follow it all, and Kyoko found herself wondering if Kazuichi had the right idea, going over a massive amount of information in a powerpoint full of easily digestible little memes and clipart.

“Essentially,” she said at last, realizing that this was all going in one ear and out the other, “We’re an organization that tries to bring stability to the world. Mostly, we’re working to undo the damage done by them.” She nodded toward Kazuichi.

\------------------

Chiaki felt kind of bad about spacing out while Kyoko was trying to explain things. She’d tried her best to pay attention, but from the gist of things, it seemed like the Future Foundation was big, important, and involved a lot of politics and bureaucracy that she did _not_ have the skill set to understand. 

(Maybe it was just because she was hungry. She idly wondered if the kitchen still had kitkats left before Kyoko brought the subject back to something easier for her to focus on and understand.)

“Oh,” Chiaki replied aptly. “That makes sense.”

\------------------

“They suck,” said Kazuichi, bluntly. “We worked hard on that damage.” At the look the girls were giving him, he added hastily, “N-not that I’m proud of it, or whatever! Just… it’s a lot of wasted effort, them coming in after us and fixing stuff all the time.”

“And where exactly is that machine of yours that’s destroying the atmosphere?” Kyoko asked casually.

Kazuichi narrowed his eyes at her. “You know, you ask a lot of intrusive personal questions.”

\-------------------

“Wait, the stuff outside is being caused by _one machine?”_ Chiaki stated, looking over at Kazuichi. She’d never really thought about why the sky was red and the air was horrible, horrible poison these days. Chiaki had played enough games to just accept it as part of the apocalypse aesthetic. “Is it really destroying the atmosphere? Isn’t that really bad? Should we go turn it off?”

\-------------------

“No!” said Kazuichi sharply.

The girls continued to stare at him, and he hunched his shoulders slightly and amended that with, “I mean, yeah, we could. But it’s a long ways off and I hate road trips and Fuyuhiko would notice we were missing and anyway even if we did turn it off, everybody would notice the sky’s not poison and they’d say ‘why’s the sky not poison, Kazuichi’ and I’d say, ‘I dunno, I guess the machine broke,’ and then they’d all think it was a bad machine.”

Kitkat clenched between his teeth, Kazuichi shoved his hands into his pockets and fiddled with the miscellaneous handfuls of junk and bits of hardware he was always carrying around, aware of how weak all those excuses sounded. “’S a good machine and it doesn’t deserve that,” he muttered.

\-------------------

Chiaki thought for a moment before nodding to herself and putting a hand on Kazuichi’s shoulder, giving it a soft pat. “We can talk more about it later, okay?” She understood why Kazuichi was upset about this; he was always really sensitive and proud of his machines, and having someone just tell him to _stop_ one when it was doing its job so well probably hurt his feelings. On top of that, it was a Despair thing, too -- his brain still considered the machine a good machine, even though it was literally killing the planet. 

Like Chiaki had told Kyoko before, she was taking this slow. One thing at a time. Baby steps. 

\------------------

“You’re going to have to deal with it _eventually_ ,” Kyoko said with little sympathy. “If you’re not mindless killing machines, then it means we can’t in good conscience brainwash you. But it also means you are, and always have been, responsible for your own actions. There’s no option where you don’t face that, now.”

“What? Chiaki said _she’d_ be responsible!” Kazuichi whined, poking his class rep in the shoulder with the end of the half-eaten kitkat he’d stolen from her.

\------------------

"I'll take as much responsibility as I can as your Class Rep." Chiaki agreed, resisting the urge to take her kitkat back in lieu of staying on topic. She would get more kitkats later. Probably. "And you're already starting to take responsibility by not doing Despair stuff, and that's enough for right now. However..."

Chiaki cautiously glanced over to Kyoko. “What do you mean by ‘take responsibility’? I don’t want my friends to get hurt. You can’t arrest them, can you? It’s not like the Future Foundation is the police.”

\------------------

“They actually totally have a police force,” said Kazuichi, at the same time as Kyoko said, “Our entire sixth division is a dedicated police force.”

\------------------

“Oh.” Chiaki said, blinking at the new information gathered in stereo. “Okay then. I guess you _can_ arrest them, then.” There was a brief pause, before Chiaki added: “Please don’t?”

\------------------

“She can _try,”_ Kazuichi scoffed. “I may not be powerful, but I’ve got powerful friends. ...People I know. I’ve got powerful people I know. I’m not turning myself in.”

Kyoko shook her head. “I’m not asking you to.” She certainly didn’t have the power to enforce something like that, even if she’d wanted to. She was deep in Remnant territory, completely at their mercy. But even aside from that… “If you turned yourself in, the Future Foundation would kill you both. And that’s _pointless_. You’re doing something good; you could potentially make all of this stop. I can’t allow that to be thrown away for the sake of some karmic punishment.” (And Makoto Naegi would be sad if after all this work they were all just executed.) 

“Justice can wait. But if you’re truly set on this course, if you want to change and become a better person… I would get started on repaying that debt to society.”

Kazuichi gave her a blank look, and said slowly, “Like… picking up litter?”

“Like helping me escape,” Kyoko prompted.

\------------------

“Oh, yeah!” Chiaki stood up abruptly, almost slipping on the floor-blankets and landing on the bed unceremoniously before successfully getting on her feet. “I promised to help you leave!”

\------------------

“Oh, dang it,” said Kazuichi, his expression going from bewilderment to horrified realization. “Oh dang it, that’s not fair! I promised not to shove you back in the torture room, I never promised to walk you out the door! I don’t owe you that!” He shot a panicked glance at Chiaki. “Do I owe her that?”

\------------------

“Well, I was the only one that promised...” Chiaki thought out loud, looking up at the ceiling and tapping her finger to her chin. There was a brief moment of silence before she gave herself a determined little nod. “I already said that if you feel unsafe you shouldn’t do it, so if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I can figure it out by myself, I think.”

\------------------

Kazuichi made a miserable whining noise in the back of his throat. “You guys are ganging up on me. Of course I’m not gonna say no when you word it like _that._ Yeah, I’ll help. Seeing as I’m a good person, and all.”

Kyoko nodded, while Kazuichi continued to sulk off to one side. “I’d thought about finding a way to climb down from your windows. The front entrance seems too heavily guarded.”

“We could make it less guarded,” said Kazuichi. “You guys want a distraction? I could probably do a distraction.” Kyoko gave him a searching look. “What? You’re kind of a jerk and I want you gone.”

“When you say distraction-”

“I mean property damage, yeah. Don’t be judgy.”

~~~~~~~

All in all, Kazuichi considered, it had been an excellent distraction. And after some convincing from Chiaki there hadn’t even been all that much property damage. Sure, the lawn was all ripped up and the immaculate topiaries were uprooted, and Fuyuhiko’s car would need some serious work later, but with half the place’s guards running around the yard trying to put out the various fires, the house was pretty much empty. Kazuichi grinned up at Chiaki’s third story window. By now, Kyoko had had plenty of time to escape.

The grin slipped. Wait, crap. He was just now realizing he’d been talked into letting Kyoko escape, which was the exact opposite of what he’d started off trying to do. Kazuichi went back over the conversation in his head, baffled at how that had happened.

Someone grabbed him roughly by the shoulder - one of Fuyuhiko’s guards. “What the hell happened here?!”

Kazuichi looked over at the smoldering wreck of Fuyuhiko’s car, where several people with fire extinguishers were fighting a losing battle, and then back to the house again, nonplussed. “Y’know, I honestly don’t know? Everything was going great up until the powerpoint presentation.”

The guard stared at him in confusion. Kazuichi stared back blankly.

“Oh, you mean the car? Yeah, I dunno. Sometimes I just do things.” He shrugged the guard’s hand off and wandered away across the lawn.


	9. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were played by RedPen.

Several hours had passed since Kyoko climbed out of Chiaki's bedroom window and escaped from Fuyuhiko's house. Chiaki could only hope that she was able to make it far enough away to not get caught. She knew Fuyuhiko was looking for her, but… 

_"FINISH HIM!"_

Chiaki watched as Kitanya butchered the PCU opponent on the screen, before letting out a soft sigh and putting the controller down. She hadn’t seen Fuyuhiko or Peko since Kyoko escaped. They’d left to do a sweep of the city while Kyoko was still hiding out in Chiaki’s room, trying to catch her before she left Nishi-Shinjuku and abandoned Fuyuhiko’s swathe of Tokyo for the relative safety of the no-man’s-land between Remnant territories. It was starting to get late, and it would only be a matter of time before Fuyuhiko got back -- either with or without Kyoko. Either way, he was going to be mad.

Also either way, Chiaki should probably eat before then.

She walked over to her door, thoughts about how Kyoko was doing beginning to swirl in her head as she opened the door --

And saw a guard there. He jumped, his hand still poised to knock and having clearly not anticipated Chiaki coming out first.

“Oh, hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” said Chiaki, blinking up at him before tilting her head curiously. “Are you guys back from the riots? Is everyone okay?”

The guard in question quickly righted himself, clearing his throat and obviously trying to act cold and professional in spite of Chiaki’s conversational tone and the fact that he’d played Mario Kart with her twice this week.

"Master Kuzuryu wants to see you in his office, Miss," he said, taking a step back so she could exit the room. When she didn't move right away, he gave Chiaki a very tired and slightly exasperated look while adding, "He wants to see you _now_ , Miss."

"Oh," she replied, stepping out of her bedroom and closing the door. "Okay."

This… wasn’t unexpected. Chiaki took a deep breath and let the guard escort her to Fuyuhiko's office. She didn't do anything wrong, she didn't feel bad about letting Kyoko go. But…

Fuyuhiko had never called her into his office before. She had been here for _weeks_ just doing her own thing, staying out of his way and hanging out when they could. Suddenly, even though she _knew_ she was right…. She couldn't help but be a little intimidated by what was on the other side of the door. 

_Fuyuhiko won't hurt me,_ Chiaki thought as the guard knocked on the door to announce them arriving. _He won't._

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko paced back and forth across his office, seething, while Peko stood watching placidly from the corner. He’d suspected what had happened from the moment they arrived back at the house after their unsuccessful search of the city, to find the lawn torn up and everyone very obviously distracted. Questioning a few key people had confirmed it. His captive had last been seen with Chiaki, and now Kyoko was gone.

There was a part of him that was _absolutely livid._ Kyoko Kirigiri, leader of the fourteenth division of the Future Foundation, survivor of the Hope’s Peak Killing game, the woman who’d helped murder _Her,_ had been tied up helpless in his torture room. The plan had been to leave her alone for an hour or two. Let her stew in her misfortune while one of his underlings roughed her up a little, let her worry about what Fuyuhiko himself was going to do to her when he finally walked through that door. (Because he’d been up all night playing video games, and he’d fully intended to take a nap first.)

And in his _utterly stupid_ sentimentality, he’d allowed a situation where Chiaki could wander around freely and discover her and let her escape. He was furious at her, and at himself for being so blinded by her, for putting up with her little savior complex for so long. This was what came of it. She’d ruined things, she’d ruined his plans, his _Despair,_ his-

Fuyuhiko realized that he’d stopped pacing, and was leaning over his desk with his hands gripping the edge of the wood, breathing heavily as his nails dug into the expensive finish. “Dammit. Dammit!” He swept his arms across the desk, and its contents went flying to the floor, something expensive-sounding breaking against the hardwood. Fuyuhiko didn’t care. “God damn it!! We had her! We fucking _had_ her! And then I just _had_ to give Chiaki fuckin’ Nanami free reign of my god damn fuckin’ house! Idiot!!” He slammed his fists against the desk. Once, twice, until his hands started aching and pain shot through the barely healed wound in his shoulder. Despair was a slow-building tsunami swelling upward from the depths of him, feasting on the utter failure and fury.

She’d gotten in the way of his plans for the world, she’d gotten in the way of his Despair, she’d never been anything but a distraction, he should teach her a lesson, get rid of her, he _needed_ to get rid of her, he needed-

There was a sharp rap on the door.

 _He needed to not be doing this in front of her. Holy_ shit _did he not need to show her this._

Fuyuhiko looked up at Peko, eyes wide and wild with Despair. Normally, he’d take this feeling out on Peko, but… He took a deep, shaky breath, running his hands through his hair. “I’m. Gonna need you. To stall her. For a minute.”

\-------------------

Peko nodded solemnly, moving away from her corner as she watched the Young Master start to break down and put himself back together. She walked quickly towards the door, opening it and taking a step out and closing it behind her with a decisive _click._ She looked at Chiaki and the guard that was ordered to bring her here with a neutral expression, her body language not giving anything away. 

“The Young Master has requested a moment of privacy,” she stated bluntly, looking past Chiaki at the guard behind her. The slight flicker of apprehension in his eyes indicated that he understood exactly what she meant. “I will see that Chiaki is delivered to him. You are dismissed.” The guard gave Peko a stiff bow and did an about-face, walking quickly away from the door and this situation in general. 

In all honesty, it was probably the smartest move for someone who wasn’t involved in all of this.  
Peko waited until the guard was out of earshot before turning to Chiaki and whispering in a tone that was so clipped it almost didn’t sound like her: “What. Happened.”

Chiaki fidgeted for a moment, opening her mouth to explain as her stomach let out a loud, defiant noise in place of her vocal cords. Chiaki looked down at her own stomach in surprise, explanation forgotten momentarily as Peko resisted the urge to let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Let’s go to the kitchens and get you some food.” Peko said, loudly enough for the Young Master to hear this time. She gently took Chiaki by the arm and guided her away from the Young Master’s office and said in a softer voice: “This is not a conversation you’ll wish to have on an empty stomach.”

~~~~~

As Chiaki and Peko went down to the kitchens (and while Chiaki demolished two bags of chips) the two of them quietly discussed exactly what had happened.

“So, to make sure I understand this,” Peko started, her voice level, her face expressionless, and her emotions volatile. “Is that you wandered the house without any guards until you relocated the torture room --”

“The tornado shelter.” Chiaki corrected, and Peko sighed.

“Yes. That. And you then proceeded to coerce the guard into leaving the room while he was doing his job, freed someone who is actively an enemy of the Young Master, and convinced Kazuichi to assist you in doing this by destroying the Young Master’s lawn as a distraction for the skeleton crew remaining at the house. Is that everything?”

“I also ate all of his kitkats,” Chiaki added, and Peko resisted the urge to shake her.

“Good to know your priorities are in line.” Peko deadpanned back, and Chiaki had the courtesy to look chastised about all of that at least. “Chiaki, you do remember that your main objective isn’t to go galavanting around and undermining the Young Master; it’s to…” Peko paused and looked around, ensuring that there weren’t any other staff around. There weren’t any that she could see, but the kitchen was a public space, so Peko decided to continue with coded wording, just in case. “You’re here to _assist_ him, not to make things more difficult. If you somehow estrange yourself from him because of this, he’s not going to take you seriously.”

“I know that.” Peko looked at Chiaki incredulously as she replied. “I do! But I couldn’t just let Kyoko be _tortured,_ Peko, it’s not right!”

“I’m not saying that you’ve done anything morally objectionable,” Peko pointed out. As frustrating as it was to not be able to give Kyoko her just-desserts for indirectly causing the Young Master harm, Peko wasn’t unaware of the fact that torture was not usually part of one’s day-to-day life as it was with hers and the Young Master’s. To the rest of the world, no matter the reason, Chiaki would have been in the right. “I’m saying that the Young Master is absolutely furious with you, and that this will most likely damage your future plans if not handled correctly.”

“I know,” Chiaki said again, this time seeming less defensive. “I don’t think I did anything wrong, but if Fuyuhiko is mad at me about it, then he can be mad. We can talk about it. We’ll figure it out.”

Peko let out a sigh through her nose, before looking back at the door. “Just… be careful what you say.”

“So…” Chiaki started, giving Peko a sheepish look, testing the waters. “Don’t mention the kitkats.” 

Peko stared for a moment before letting out a soft gush of air, something akin to a soft, single syllable laugh, the tension fizzling out of her body slightly. “I would avoid it, if at all possible.”

“Okay, I won’t do that then.” Chiaki’s posture straightened and she gave Peko an encouraging smile. “And everything will be okay.”

Peko guided Chiaki back upstairs to Fuyuhiko’s office, watching as her tension seemed to grow -- not out of fear, but seemingly out of determination. Peko’s posture and expression remained neutral while gently gripping the crook of Chiaki’s arm and knocking on the Young Master’s door, waiting for permission to enter.

\-------------------

“Get in here,” said Fuyuhiko.

He was sitting at his desk, elbows against the wood and hands steepled in front of his face, staring over his fingers at the both of them as Peko opened the door. The desk itself was bare, its contents strewn across the floor in a mess of scattered papers and broken desk ornaments. The glass of a broken photo frame crunched under Peko’s shoes as they entered. His hands were already beginning to bruise, and the bullet wound in his shoulder was bleeding through the bandage a bit, staining his suit with flecks of red. The red-gold light of a polluted sky poured in through the blinds of the window behind him, casting the whole office into deep red light and black shadows. 

A single, uncomfortable looking wooden chair stood facing the desk, having been dragged there with such force that there were grooves scored into the hardwood floor.

Fuyuhiko waited until Peko had shut the door again before speaking, his voice carefully, deliberately flat and neutral, his steepled hands hiding his expression. “Chiaki. Have a seat.”

\-------------------

Chiaki looked around at the office, Peko guiding her forward to the chair as she observed the absolute chaos that was the state of this room. She had expected Fuyuhiko to be a little bit more organized, but maybe something happened and he just hadn’t had time to clean up from it yet? Chiaki’s eyebrows furrowed as Peko had her stand in front of the chair and pull down on her shoulder, forcing Chiaki to sit down before she walked back to a corner and observed quietly. 

Chiaki finally looked at Fuyuhiko, her eyes going to the blood on his clothes before anything. Her disposition shifted from confused to concerned in less than a second. “Fuyuhiko, you’re bleeding!” she said, all thoughts of defending herself and her actions gone -- he was _hurt;_ regardless of how angry he was, she wasn’t going to just ignore that! His hands looked bad too, further confirming Chiaki’s suspicions that something _had_ happened.

Chiaki stood up, quickly moving around the desk and standing next to Fuyuhiko, belatedly realizing that regardless of how he _looked_ , there was no way Fuyuhiko wasn’t still mad at her. However, it was a bit too late to take it back now; she was already here. She kneeled down a bit (which she insisted was because he was _sitting,_ not for other reasons) to look closer at his bandaged shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at him. “Can I help you?”

\-------------------

“I was shot yesterday,” said Fuyuhiko. “You should remember, you were there.”

His hands had pressed together more tightly when she stood up. That little act of defiance, of casually brushing off his orders after he’d explicitly told her to _sit down,_ was a grating reminder of how little control he had over her. How little control he’d ever had, how their every interaction had ended in him folding and her getting her way. She knelt beside him, peering at his shoulder, and Fuyuhiko took a slow, deliberate breath and tamped down that boiling rage.

“Is that what you were doing today, Chiaki? Helping me?”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked at his response to her question, not expecting to get a question back. She thought about her answer for a moment; there was no way Mori hadn’t told Fuyuhiko that she had been alone with Kyoko in the ‘tornado shelter,’ and from there it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened.

She knew he was mad. But he was mad because he was in Despair. Chiaki nodded to herself. It was now or never. Chiaki _had_ to talk to Fuyuhiko about this; he had to know better, right? Maybe this was the moment where she finally made good on her promise to Peko, and helped Fuyuhiko remember that Despair was wrong. Last time, with Kazuichi, it had only taken one serious conversation. She could do it again, couldn’t she?

There wasn’t any point in stalling. She knew it was hard work, but she could _help._ That’s what being a Class Rep _was._

“I wanted to help her, too, but… yeah.”

\-------------------

“Uh-huh,” said Fuyuhiko. “Well, I get it. Of course you wanted to help her. That’s just the type of person you are. You see someone in distress and you can’t help but stick your damn nose into it.”

He leaned back in his chair, that dull red sunlight glinting off the blood.

“Which is why I would really, _really_ like to believe that you had no clue who that was. That’s what I have to keep telling myself. That you didn’t know what you were doing, that you didn’t realize who you were helping out. That sweet, bleeding-hearted Chiaki was just trying to do a good deed.”

He gazed at her coldly, giving her an opportunity to confirm or deny. She could lie about it, he supposed. He almost wished she would. Then he could make this all go away, convince himself to let it slide, that it wasn’t her fault, that things could go back to normal, if she just told him it was all one big stupid misunderstanding.

It wasn’t, and he knew it. But he would cling to that last fraying shred of a chance to stay calm about this until she took it away from him. Whatever he did to her after that would be her own damn fault.

\-------------------

Chiaki was silent for another moment as Fuyuhiko talked, and she realized what was happening: Fuyuhiko was giving her an out. He didn’t _want_ to be mad at her; he didn’t _want_ to have to do whatever he had to do when someone did something he didn’t like or stepped out of line in his house. She knew she could take that out, because this was the closest thing to an olive branch she’d get in this kind of situation.

But then, wouldn’t that just make things go back to how they were? Wouldn’t that make her Despair too, in a really _real_ way? Wouldn’t that be telling Fuyuhiko that what he was doing was okay, that this was all an _accident,_ it wouldn’t happen again?

(Okay, she was pretty sure that Fuyuhiko would make sure it wouldn’t happen again either way, but still.)

Either way, though, she knew she wouldn’t take it. She let out a soft sigh, sitting on her knees next to Fuyuhiko and tucking her skirt into the place between her thighs and calves so it didn’t move while she sat.

“I didn’t know who it was when I found her; I _did_ just want to help, and make sure she didn’t get hurt,” she started, looking at Fuyuhiko’s shoulder -- he was still bleeding. Probably a lot, if it was soaking through his suit jacket. Her eyebrows furrowed; she knew if she tried to talk him into getting help, he’d just say she was distracting him. She forced her gaze away from the wound and made eye contact with Fuyuhiko instead as she continued. 

“But she figured out I wasn’t in Despair and she told me some stuff about herself. Her name and where she was from and stuff.” She didn’t mention that Kyoko wanted to help her. She didn’t mention that Kazuichi was involved. Chiaki knew that the amount Fuyuhiko knew was going to either help or hurt the situation; she had to play this like a simulator. She had to pick the right response. “She told me about the killing game and how --” Chiaki clenched her fists on her skirt, an unfamiliar emotion bubbling up like a wave of nausea as she thought of the fact that the girl who tried to kill her was _dead now_ \-- “how everything happened.”

Chiaki didn’t say she was sorry for the loss. Not because she wasn’t upset that Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were sad about it, but because Junko being gone wasn’t really a _loss._

“I’m still kind of figuring out how to feel about everything,” she said, being purely honest in this. She was stressed, confused, and upset that everyone would just… _let_ that happen. Poor Kyoko… she’d lost so many friends. Chiaki wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle that, if she were being honest with herself. “And I’m sorry if you’re angry with me, because I wasn’t thinking about that part when I helped, but… I couldn’t just let her get hurt.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko put his elbows on the desk again, staring off into space. “I see.”

A long silence, while he processed how to continue. Chiaki knew about the killing game. It had never really occurred to him that she didn’t know. After all, it was common knowledge, and it had been broadcast around the world. But she’d been in a coma. Chiaki hadn’t known, and now she did.

He hated how _ashamed_ that made him feel, even as the Despair in him rose up ravenously at the emotion, lapping eagerly at it but utterly failing to devour it. This was exactly why Chiaki was a problem. Chiaki was a source of guilt and shame that didn’t seem to feed his Despair… no, that cast a harsh light which made his Despair look revolting. Fuyuhiko’s stomach twisted, and he closed his eye and pressed the palms of his hands against the hollows of his face.

“I see,” he said again. Good, his voice was still calm, still steady. He needed it to be. He needed to face this rationally. “So, she told you about the killing game. All the shit we did to her.” He opened his eyes again, and touched his shoulder. His hand came away bloody. “So, you probably think she was in the right, getting a bunch of her fuckin’ goons together to try to kill us yesterday.”

\-------------------

Chiaki watched as Fuyuhiko pressed his hand against his bloody suit jacket and resisted the urge to offer to help him again; he shouldn’t be ignoring his injury like this, he could get seriously hurt -- 

Her eyes snapped back up to his face when he mentioned that Kyoko was responsible for sending the mob after them, briefly distracted from Fuyuhiko’s injury. “Kyoko did that?”

\-------------------

“She did,” he confirmed stoically, smearing the blood between his thumb and forefinger. “She’s real organized. Had the whole plan all neatly laid out in files for us when we caught her. She whipped the city into a frenzy, telling them all her bullshit propaganda about _Hope_ and the _Future Foundation._ How they outnumbered my men, how much _better_ their crapsack little world would be if they overthrew me. Didn’t mean a fuckin’ word of it, of course. Just meant all the rioting to be a distraction, to draw my men away while she broke into my house and stole…”

He waved his bloody hand vaguely. “You know, I don’t know _what_ she stole. Probably would have found out if I’d had the chance to torture her, _Chiaki.”_

\-------------------

“I didn’t know that,” she said, the new information about her new friend mixing in with everything else that she’d learned today. She was going to need some _seriously_ tough PCU’s to fight after this. “I just… I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

It made sense, now, why Fuyuhiko and Peko were both so angry. Chiaki had almost been hurt as a result of the mob; heck, Fuyuhiko had been _shot_ by the mob, Kazuichi got smacked in the face with a trash can lid as a result of the mob.

(Well… it was more Chiaki had been forced to run away by the mob, which led to Kazuichi getting smacked in the face later on. The logic was still sound.)

Chiaki’s eyes flickered back and forth between Fuyuhiko’s bloody hand and his face. She thought quietly for a moment, remembering what Kyoko had told her about what she and her friends had wanted to try -- if Kyoko had _really_ wanted that, she wouldn’t try to have anyone _kill_ Fuyuhiko. She wouldn’t do that.

And either way, that wasn’t the point. 

She looked up at Fuyuhiko with a new purpose. “I know you’re mad at her, and you should be because she hurt you, and I’m mad too, but… I still don’t think _she_ should’ve gotten hurt. It wasn’t right.” She stopped there; with anyone else, she knew what she would say next, but she had to be careful. Fuyuhiko was already really mad, and… 

_He won’t hurt me._ She thought. _He won’t._

\-------------------

Another deep breath. Keep the Despair simmering just below the surface, don’t let it boil over. She wasn’t taking the out. Chiaki had always been like this, and would always be like this. She hated seeing people get hurt, but she also hated the injustice of the world. She hated people getting away with hurting others.

He’d been humoring her for far too long, hiding her away from his Despair like some doted on pet. He couldn’t keep doing that, allowing her to babble on about her hopeful little niceties in the background while he made the world a hellhole. The ideal thing to do would be to kill her now, and revel in the misery of it before sharing her tragic death with the others. Act as if he’d planned it that way, kept her alive just to savor that eventual death. The rest of the Remnants would buy it. All it would take would be one word to Peko. If he didn’t, and let her get away with something like this, he’d be complicit in her… her _Hope._

No, that was the Despair talking, trying to force him into something drastic and ill thought out. He could still turn this around. It didn’t have to end that way. He had one other option.

He could make her one of them.

“So it was fine, what she did?” he asked instead, that Despair tarry and thick in his throat. _She hates injustice. And the world is so unjust. Use that._ “It’s just fine, if the Future Foundation kills us all? I guess you’re right, after how many of theirs we’ve slaughtered. How many innocent people have gotten caught in the crossfire. After the killing game. It’d balance things out, if they could kill us all. That what you’re saying, Chiaki?”

The chair swiveled, and he leaned down and put his face close to hers. Despair, contagious and crooning, stained his words, and he let it. It would have been so much easier if he’d just decided to do it this way from the beginning. “Do you want me dead? Guess not, since you freak out when you see me bleeding. So maybe you don’t know what you want.”

\-------------------

Chiaki watched Fuyuhiko as he began to spiral, asking questions that didn’t technically matter -- but they _did._ They mattered to Fuyuhiko, so she thought about it, and answered. 

“I _do_ think that Hope is right,” she said bluntly, not flinching as Fuyuhiko encroached on her personal space. “I don’t know enough about the Future Foundation to say if they’re actually right or not, but I don’t think they are either.” _Especially based on what Kyoko said,_ she thought, and she continued:

“I don’t want you dead, Fuyuhiko. You know that better than anyone. You’re my classmate and --” Chiaki paused, feeling herself get a little choked up. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and continued. “You’re my friend. Of course I don’t want to see you hurt. Me wanting you dead because of your Despair would be just like you wanting me dead because of my Hope.”

Chiaki cautiously raised her hand and placed it on top of Fuyuhiko’s bloody hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Fuyuhiko, whether or not you’re in Despair, you’re still my friend. I’d never hurt you, and if I did I would make up for it as best as I can.” She let his hand go, giving him a wobbly smile. “I mean, I already hurt you by being gone for so long. Probably. So I gotta make up for it now, right?”

\-------------------

His hand shot forward and clasped hers back, the blood slick between their fingers. It tightened, squeezing her hand, crushing her knuckles together. “Of course, Chiaki,” he said, smiling back at her. “Of course you should make up for it.”

 _We can be friends, can’t we Fuyuhiko? Even if I want Hope and you want Despair? We don’t want to hurt each other! Or more like, you won’t hurt me, right? No matter what I do, no matter how much I screw things up for you and rub them in your face! You’re weak and impotent and_ small, _and I do not fear you._

“How do you think you can make up for it, Chiaki?” he said, his voice strained, his smile all teeth. “Since you want to. So we can all keep fuckin’ getting along. How do you think you should do it? I’m open to suggestions.”

\-------------------

Chiaki didn’t expect Fuyuhiko to take her hand, to squeeze it like a lifeline, continuing to spiral out of control. She bit her lip, furrowing her brow for a moment, thinking. Her hand was starting to ache from the pressure, but she didn’t let go.

She squeezed back.

“I won’t let go,” she said. She stood up on her knees, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and held him tight. “I’ll believe in you. I --” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t have time to settle down this time. “I’ve always believed in you. You’re strong and brave and smart, I think.” She buried her face in Fuyuhiko's shoulder, suddenly feeling a weird wetness on her face -- it was only weird because she knew that Fuyuhiko’s wound was on the _other_ side. “I’ll Hope for you. I’ll take responsibility for everything I can, and --”

\-------------------

With his free hand, the one attached to his aching, bleeding shoulder, Fuyuhiko seized Chiaki roughly by her own shoulder and shoved her away. It hurt; sent another stab of pain through the wound under his bandages, another small blossom of blood against his suit jacket.

There were tear streaks on her face. He scowled at her. “Gonna pull that shit again? You think I’ll go easy on you if you just turn on the waterworks about it?”

\-------------------

Chiaki fell back on her knees, blinking at Fuyuhiko when he mentioned “waterworks” before wiping the wetness off of her face and realizing that she had, in fact, been crying. 

“Sorry,” she said, looking back up at him. “Today was a lot, and yesterday was too. I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I promise.” There was a lull in the conversation, before Chiaki gave him a small smile. “But I meant what I said. I’ll be here, okay? Just like I was before. Always.”

\-------------------

Utter silence, for a moment, from Fuyuhiko. He tilted his head, the reddish shadows making harsh angles across the soft lines of his face.

“I don’t want you here,” he said at last. “I didn’t fuckin’ invite you. Didn’t fuckin’ ask for your damn help. Pretty goddamn self centered of you to think _believing in me_ means shit.”

_That hopeful smile. Crush it._

\-------------------

Chiaki’s smile did leave, surprised to hear Fuyuhiko tell her outright that he didn’t want her here. Granted, if she thought about it, he was right; he didn’t ask for her help, even though she’d offered it (though not in the way _he_ wanted).

She thought about it for a moment, though. Even though a lot of what he said was out of Despair, she did realize he was actually right about one thing:

“I guess assuming that sort of thing would be kind of selfish, I think,” she said, giving him another small smile. It still _hurt_ hearing him say it, but that didn’t make it any less true. “If it would make it up to you for me to go away, I’ll go. I’ll be sad about it, but… I’ll go.”

“If you want me to do something else though, I’ll do that too.” Chiaki gave his hand another gentle squeeze -- or she thought she did. Her fingers were going kind of numb. “Wow, your grip is really strong.” 

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko squeezed her hand more tightly. He didn’t actually want her to leave, she’d die out there. _She’ll die in here. I’m literally contemplating killing her. Why the hell does she keep calling all my bluffs? Just Despair already. If you Despair it’ll all be fine. Just Despair just Despair just Despair-_

“Yeah. You’re selfish. You’re just here because you feel responsible for all of us, you’ve straight up fuckin’ admitted it. After all, we fell into Despair because of you.” He stood up suddenly, looming over her as much as he could, still gripping her hand. “But hey, taking responsibility’s always ended bad for you, hasn’t it? If you’d just stayed out of our business way back then, instead of stupidly getting involved, we wouldn’t be like this, _class rep._ Should have just stuck to your fuckin’ games.”

\-------------------

As soon as Fuyuhiko was done talking, Chiaki replied: “I wouldn’t change that for anything, though.” He was trying really hard to hurt her feelings, but her smile, which had been small and melancholy, was growing now while thinking about their class and the fun they’d had. 

“Sometimes, you have to work through the bad to get to the good stuff,” she said plainly. Her expression turned contemplative for just a moment, before adding: “It’s kind of like grinding in a video game. It’s hard and takes a lot of work, but it’s worth it when you beat the final boss.”

\-------------------

“Stop it,” said Fuyuhiko, hoarsely.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked, and tilted her head slightly with a confused expression. “Fuyuhiko?”

\-------------------

“Stop it!” he growled at her, and a moment later he was gripping her other wrist, dragging her to her feet, whipping her around, and shoving her back against the window. The blinds clattered on the glass, making lines of black and red across her face. “Stop it! Stop smiling! Stop being happy about it! Stop _believing_ in us!! Do you just not fucking understand? Are you _stupid?_ You can’t undo this! You can’t fix it!! We’re fuckin’ irredeemable monsters and we kill people and we _like it!! What don’t you fuckin’ understand about that?!”_

\-------------------

Chiaki let out a soft ‘oof’ sound, the wind knocked out of her briefly as Fuyuhiko yanked her up off the ground and shoved her into the window behind her, the blinds digging into her jacket and the back of her head. It took her a moment to understand what was being said, but when she did --

“Who said you were irredeemable?” Chiaki said, looking Fuyuhiko in the eye. “Good people do bad things, Fuyuhiko. You’re not just a Remnant, you aren’t Despair, not a _monster,_ you’re a _person._ Yeah, you made a bad choice -- a lot of bad choices -- but that doesn’t mean you can’t _stop_ making bad choices and make good ones instead. People change all the time, Fuyuhiko!” She was getting louder, but she didn’t care at this point. “Don’t talk about our classmates like that! Don’t talk about _yourself_ like that! And I don’t care if you think it’s selfish, but I’m going to believe in you and everyone else no matter what so get _used_ to it!!”

Chiaki was heaving at the end. Fuyuhiko still had her pinned against the glass and flimsy plastic. She pouted and added in a mumble, “Besides, you’re the one being stupid. I wouldn’t take responsibility for you if I didn’t think you could change for the better. Dummy.”

\-------------------

“You _idiot,_ you can’t keep talking like that!” Fuyuhiko screamed at her. “You don’t know anything about us!! You knew us for two school years and then you were gone for _years,_ and you’ve got the fuckin’ _audacity_ to just show up on my doorstep and claim you’re gonna fix it all? I thought about killing you when you got here, Chiaki, and I didn’t outta some stupid sentimentality! And now you’ve gone and fucked with something you shouldn’t, so my Despair and my fuckin’ honor as a yakuza are both screaming that I shoulda! What do I do with that, Chiaki? What am I supposed to do with that, when every time I give you an out, you throw it back in my face!!”

\-------------------

“I _know_ I’m not going to be able to fix it all!” Chiaki said, furrowing her brows and closing her eyes, hoping that tears wouldn’t fall again. She couldn’t afford that right now. “If I could fix it all, I would have done it already. I know I can’t. I just…” Chiaki clenched her fists, tendons flexing under Fuyuhiko’s hands. She looked back up at Fuyuhiko. “I don’t want to lie to you. I can’t just say you’re right and I’m wrong. I’m sorry if you wanted me to. I’m not trying to throw anything back in your face. You’re…” She thought for a moment. “You’ve done a lot for me, but I don’t want to encourage all the bad when I know you can be better. When I know _everyone_ can be better.”

“As for what you should do…” Chiaki tilted her head to the side slightly. “That’d be your choice, I think.”

\-------------------

“Dammit!” he shouted, slamming her arms into the window again. “Dammit Chiaki, why the hell are you so _calm?!_ I have to kill you! You know that, don’t you? You sided with the Future Foundation, and if I just let you get away with that, I-” He gagged on the words. There WAS no other choice. Despair swarmed his brain, choking off anything else. Furiously, he slammed her arms down yet again, starbursts dancing in his vision as if he was suffocating. “Just! Despair! Just give up and Despair, or I’ll kill you! It’s your fault for fuckin’ dying! Everything happened because of you! You made us this way! Your fault! Your fault! _Your fault!”_

\-------------------

“Fuyuhiko, I’m not dead,” she said, her voice suddenly quiet. She could almost feel the bruises that were going to be on her arms tomorrow. Fuyuhiko was upset and spiraling, but he was saying a bunch of things he didn’t mean. He was the oyabun of a yakuza clan, so he might have to punish her somehow, especially considering what Kyoko did and why she was here, but Fuyuhiko wouldn’t kill Chiaki. 

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Chiaki didn’t try to move or struggle. She didn’t want to egg him on more. She never wanted to see Fuyuhiko like this; she had seen Kazuichi and Teruteru like this, too. Sometimes people have bad days. “You don’t have to kill me, okay? I promise everything will be okay if you don’t.”

Chiaki knew for a fact that she wasn’t going to Despair. She just… wasn’t. She didn’t want to die, but… she couldn’t Despair either. Especially not when she saw her friend struggling behind his own eyes.

“I won’t Despair, Fuyuhiko. I don’t have to, and you don’t either. It’s okay.”

\-------------------

Chiaki was speaking gibberish. The words made sense individually, but when she strung them together they meant nothing. Didn’t have to kill her? But she’d let Kyoko escape. He’d let her let Kyoko escape. She had to be punished. He had to be punished. If no one was made to suffer, then- Again, Despair swirled. There was no _then,_ there just had to be suffering.

“You’re so high and mighty,” he hissed at her. “You’re _so_ much better than us, that you’re immune to Despair, huh? Nobody’s immune. Despair is everything.” His eyes widened, staring right through Chiaki, dark and spiraling with sudden realization. Chiaki _would_ Despair. Her insistence that she wouldn’t was nothing more than a challenge. _“She_ taught us that. But you had to die, so you didn’t get to hear it. You just never got the chance to fuckin’ understand. You just don’t know.”

Some small part of him was screaming that he’d tried so hard to avoid this, that he hadn’t wanted her to see him at his worst, that all his careful efforts to steer the conversation into civil compromise were being wasted and that surely, _surely_ there had been other options a moment ago. But Despair was an ocean, and that part of him had its feet set in concrete.

“Peko!” he said, grinning widely, still staring through Chiaki. “Go get the torture room ready. We can teach her.” His grin widened until his face hurt. “You want to make up for emptying that chair, right Chiaki? Fine! You can fuckin’ fill it! Let’s find out how _immune_ you are!!”

\-------------------

Chiaki watched as Fuyuhiko slipped further and further into Despair. She glanced over at Peko; Peko’s face remained neutral, but her body seemed frozen, as if she couldn’t move. Chiaki silently hoped Fuyuhiko didn’t notice her hesitation -- at least, not right away. 

She looked back at her friend, screaming in her face and pinning her against the window, and she could only think of one thing in response to everything Fuyuhiko had said:

“I thought it was a tornado shelter.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko slapped her.

He hadn’t even slapped her particularly hard, but the rush of emotion that came with finally, after all these weeks, just straight up striking Chiaki Nanami, completely overwhelmed his brain with white noise. It wasn’t Hope or Despair, it was too raw and ragged to be any one thing.

 _The tornado shelter,_ he’d said, walking her quickly past the room where he carved away bits and pieces of people. _Most people even still have plumbing,_ he’d told her proudly, as he drove her through the debris strewn streets of a city he’d gutted, full of hopeless, huddling people with lifeless eyes. _Rude of you not to invite me into your blanket fort,_ he’d said flippantly, swaying from blood loss after they’d both nearly died to an angry mob, pretending nothing was wrong. All the little things like that he’d hidden from her, tried so hard not to bring up around her. The Hope’s Peak killing game. The burned out world. His own Despair, eating away at him like an acid, turning him into this wild-eyed, screaming thing. Everything he’d tried so hard to swaddle her away from, he’d been utterly ineffective in protecting her from any of it. It had all always been laid bare before her, and the only thing he was protecting was himself, pretending she didn’t know.

So he slapped her, once, and then he slowly lowered his hand, his mind numb with more screaming, writhing emotion than he could process.

“Why the fuck,” he said, hoarsely, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked in surprise as Fuyuhiko slapped her, her head snapping to the side, before relaxing a bit against the window. “Okay, I deserved that,” she admitted sheepishly, taking her now free hand and gently rubbing where she was slapped to see if it hurt. 

It didn’t. Her wrist did, though.

She looked back at Fuyuhiko when he asked his question, and tilted her head in confusion. “Do you want me to be afraid of you?”

\-------------------

“Yes! Fucking yes! I’m the head of the fucking yakuza! Do you think I can’t kill you? You think I can’t torture you? I’m not making empty threats! I can do that shit! I do that shit pretty much constantly! It is undermining my fuckin’ authority and making me look weak, when you don’t respect that!”

He groped behind himself for his desk chair and sank heavily into it, still facing her and the window.

“What… what do I gotta do, Chiaki? How much do I gotta hurt you before you just…” He waved his arm vaguely, the one not bleeding. “Just… fear me. Give up. Stop.”

Was that really what he wanted? Hadn’t he been trying so hard to avoid that very thing? No. She had to fear him. He couldn’t keep indulging in nostalgia from before he was a Remnant of Despair. If she was here, she had to be here in that context. In Despair with him, or cowering terrified of him as his prisoner. Anything that put him back in control.

…That’s right. That’s what this conversation had been about. He’d lost focus there, for a second.

\-------------------

Chiaki thought about that. Her brows furrowed for a moment, cheeks puffing out in a pouty yet contemplative expression. There were a couple beats of silence as she thought about what to say next, thinking about things from Fuyuhiko’s perspective.

“I guess that makes sense,” she said, finally breaking the tense silence that was starting to permeate the room. “I mean, a lot of people are scared of you for... _all_ of that stuff, probably. But we’re friends, aren’t we?” She smiled at Fuyuhiko again, already knowing the answer to the question. “Friends aren’t scared of each other.”

\-------------------

Okay. The rage was rushing out of him. He was calmer now, and pushing to the back of his mind that familiar shame that came with breaking down in front of his class rep. That shame had to go too. He had to fix all this now.

“And that’s the fuckin’ problem, Chiaki. You’re not scared of me, so you think you can do whatever you want. That’s gotta stop now. Shit like what happened with Kyoko Kirigiri… I can’t let you get away with that. You can’t just think you’re my friend so there’s gonna be no consequences.”

\-------------------

Chiaki nodded solemnly at that. “I knew you were going to be mad, Fuyuhiko. It’s okay if you have to do something about it; I was kind of prepping for it a little.” She thought for a moment before her face lit up with an idea -- one that was a _little_ gruesome, but it was a real yakuza thing. Probably.

“Do you want to cut off my finger?” she asked bluntly. “I saw that they did that in the Yakuza series, but if you do that, can you do my ring finger or my pinky? I need the other three to hold the controller and push the buttons.”

\-------------------

“Oh,” said Fuyuhiko, blankly. “I mean… yeah, sure, that’d do it.” 

He hadn’t expected her to be so reasonable about it.

When he looked over to the door, Peko was still standing stiffly at attention. _Didn’t I give her an order a minute ago? That’s… weird,_ something at the back of his mind supplied, and was ignored, because why the hell would Peko ever ignore his orders?

“Hey, did you not hear me? I said prep the torture room. Get some antiseptic or something, I’m not gonna cut her finger off in my fuckin’ office.”

\-------------------

Peko straightened further as the Young Master addressed her directly -- the closest thing to an actual flinch anyone could get out of her. She glanced quickly at Chiaki, praying that she knew what she was actually getting herself into. She then turned away, walking away from her corner, moving around the damaged office decorations scattered on the floor and opened the door --

Only to have Kazuichi Soda fall face first onto the floor by her feet. Peko resisted the urge to make any expression on her face as she stared down at her felled fellow Remnant. “Kazuichi.” 

\-------------------

“I wasn’t listening at your door!” Kazuichi stammered, quickly scrambling to his feet. “I was just, like, walking down the hallway, y’know, and I happened to lean against the door right when you opened it! And even if I did hear something, you were screaming at each other, so anybody could’ve heard it!”

\-------------------

“Are you okay?” Chiaki called from the other side of the room as Kazuichi flailed and got to his feet. Peko’s expression remained neutral; weirdly enough, Kazuichi being his usual self seemed to help Peko relax back into her role. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Chiaki,” she said, looking back at Kazuichi. “The Young Master has requested for me to prepare the torture chamber. Kazuichi can assist me in this endeavor.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi gave a small yelp at the words “torture chamber.” “I said I wasn’t listening!! You don’t have to go that far!!”

Fuyuhiko groaned and slumped down further into his chair. “Yeah, that right there proves you didn’t hear anything. Not for you, idiot. For Chiaki.”

“Oh,” said Kazuichi, brightening up immediately. “Cool.”

\-------------------

Peko’s body and face remained relaxed as she resisted the urge to slap Kazuichi in the back of the head while he and the Young Master were talking. She was sure the Young Master wouldn’t mind it (actually he’d probably find it amusing), but since the subject was the matter of punishing Chiaki… Well, Peko was on the side of Despair and pain and chaos, and wasn’t supposed to have any reason to be angry at Kazuichi’s nonchalance. 

However, this _was_ Chiaki’s choice. Somehow. Peko had no clue why on _earth_ she thought Fuyuhiko cutting her finger off would be a good idea. Peko wondered if Chiaki did these sorts of things on purpose, as some part of her master plan, or if she were truly that impulsive.

Granted, if Chiaki had planned these things in advance, that would make her a truly terrifying adversary indeed.

Peko grabbed Kazuichi by the back of his collar and physically dragged him out of Fuyuhiko’s office, leaving Chiaki and Fuyuhiko their privacy. Hopefully, Chiaki would be alright, regardless of what happened next.

It was a bit ironic, a Remnant hoping for the safety of a friend.

\-------------------

“Ow! Hey, what gives?!” Kazuichi whined as he was dragged out of the room. “Peko, come on! I wanna hear if he’s chewing her out or not!”

The screaming echoing through the house had been concerning, but by the time he’d put his ear to the door it sounded like they were back to civil conversation, so he supposed they’d worked it out. Honestly it was a relief not to have to get involved. Looked like Chiaki had made good on her promise to take all the blame for the Kyoko Escape, so he wasn’t about to interfere with that.

Still, it felt wrong not to know what was happening. If Fuyuhiko was even half as pissed off as he sounded (and honestly, he was usually way MORE pissed off than he sounded), then Kazuichi had definitely expected way more violence to be happening. It kind of worried him.

Not enough to risk his own neck, obviously. But still.

\-------------------

Peko ‘guided’ Kazuichi out of the office and shut the door behind them, letting him ‘follow’ her until they were far enough away for them to be out of earshot of the Young Master and Chiaki. 

She then let him go and finally let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Kazuichi, are you sure you’re okay with Chiaki going this far?” she asked plainly, scanning the room for eavesdroppers (and finding none) before turning around and saying quietly: “The Young Master is planning on cutting off Chiaki’s finger, and you’re _fine_ with that?”

\-------------------

“Like, the whole finger?” said Kazuichi, as if half a finger was somehow also an option. “Huh. I mean, she seemed calm about it?” Sure nobody wanted their fingers cut off (unless, you know, you were really really deep into a Despair kick in which case heck yeah start chopping), but it’s not like she’d been screaming and begging Fuyuhiko not to, so it was probably-

-okay, wait, back up, process that one more time.

“Wait, like the _whole finger?!”_

\-------------------

Peko gave him a deadpan expression -- an impressive feat for Kazuichi, considering it was extremely difficult to _get_ Peko to emote -- before sliding back to neutrality and beginning to move towards the torture room again. “Yes. As opposed to? The top joint is traditional for a first infraction, but Chiaki released a high ranking member of the Future Foundation, as well as someone who was partially responsible for Junko Enoshima’s death. A whole finger is honestly the minimum of what should occur, and Chiaki should be thankful we aren’t asking for more. The Young Master is thorough enough to not do these things in fractions.”

Of course, if Peko had her way Chiaki wouldn’t be losing anything, but Peko’s opinions on the matter weren’t exactly important in the grand scheme of this situation.

\-------------------

“Fractions aren’t the problem here, you know!” Kazuichi yelped back at her. “Any percentage of her finger is too much! I know he’s a yakuza, but that’s going too far!”

\-------------------

“Do you think so?” Peko said -- an attempt at sarcasm, though it had been awhile since she had last attempted it. The Young Master probably would have noticed if he were part of the conversation, but it would most likely be lost on Kazuichi. “Chiaki suggested it. And though I cannot go against the Young Master’s wishes, I am… not comfortable with the idea of Chiaki coming to harm.”

\-------------------

“No crap!” Kazuichi tangled his own fingers through his hair in a panic, a whine creeping into his voice. “I can’t give her back to Izuru minus a finger! He’ll kill me!! He’ll ask where the finger is and then he’ll kill me!! Craaaaaap, I never should have let her talk me into helping with the Kyoko thing, we should have just put her back…”

\-------------------

Peko resisted the urge to glare at Kazuichi; whatever his reasoning, at least they were of the same opinion on this. “Perhaps you should remind the Young Master that Kamukura wishes that Chiaki remain unharmed,” she stated bluntly, arriving at the torture chamber and opening the door. No one had cleaned thoroughly since Kirigiri’s escape, but the discarded ropes were gone, and the chair had been pushed back into the center of the room.

Peko walked over to where the torture devices were and starting putting the unnecessary ones away, leaving only a few knives out for the Young Master to choose from. “He may reconsider, though there is no guarantee.”

\-------------------

“If I tell Fuyuhiko not to do something, he’ll probably kill me too!” Kazuichi groaned. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, unsure of what to do. “No, yeah, I get it, you’re right. I should just remind him about Izuru. Izuru’s fault, not mine. Can’t argue with Izuru. Yeah? Yeah.”

Having successfully talked himself into it, Kazuichi sprinted back down the hallway.

\-------------------

Peko continued organizing the weapons that would be used to remove a small appendage from her friend’s body. She paused for a moment, looking at the table, the knives, the room itself. She’d never thought that they would end up torturing a friend here.

Granted, the Young Master did have one point to his argument with Chiaki earlier; who, Chiaki aside, would be friends with the _Remnants_ of all people?


	10. A Sterile Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were played by RedPen, and Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91.

Chiaki waited in silence after Peko and Kazuichi left. She’d moved away from the window and was sitting in the hard wooden chair that Fuyuhiko had asked her to sit in earlier, rubbing surreptitiously at her aching wrists. Fuyuhiko was surprisingly strong, despite his stature; her arms were definitely, _definitely_ going to bruise. She made a mental note to make sure her arms were covered for the next few days, just in case. 

With injuries on the mind, Chiaki suddenly remembered a concern of hers from earlier, looking up at Fuyuhiko. “Is your shoulder doing okay?” she asked. “It was bleeding pretty bad before. Are you feeling okay?”

\-------------------

“Would have been feeling better if I’d gotten revenge for it,” Fuyuhiko muttered, still slouched in his own chair. “I don’t forgive you. You and I still have a shitload of unsettled bad blood between us that you gotta make up for.” He rolled his shoulder back experimentally, gritting his teeth. “But it’s fine. Just needs the bandages changed. Shoulda done that earlier before it bled through onto my suit, but, you know. It’s been a hell of a day.”

\-------------------

Chiaki looked away from Fuyuhiko again; not necessarily _guilty_ about things, but she didn’t like the idea of her friend being mad at her. Even if she did do the right thing. “Yeah, I expected that.”

\-------------------

Silence, between them, for a moment. “So you got their side of the story, huh?” Fuyuhiko said quietly, and he wasn’t sure if he meant the Future Foundation as a whole, or the Hope’s Peak killing game survivors. He also wasn’t sure which option was worse - which group hated them the most.

\-------------------

“Kazuichi gave me your side too, I think,” she said, her brow furrowing a bit. “There was a slideshow, but it was kind of confusing. There was a lot of clip art. Kyoko wanted to have sex with an egg? It was weird.” She made a pouty face for a moment, trying her best to not laugh at the mental image of Kazuichi’s slideshow -- or worse, the mental image of the super serious Kyoko _actually_ attempting to seduce an egg.

The fact that this was funny somehow proved to Chiaki that maybe she needed a nap after all of this was over.

\-------------------

The utter absurdity of that managed to break through the dark melancholy that had settled between them. “Fuckin’ hell, Kazuichi,” Fuyuhiko muttered under his breath, more resigned than angry. Kyoko wanted to have sex with… did she mean the otaku guy? He was kind of egg-shaped. Damn, he really should have paid more attention to the killing game while it was airing. Apparently there was all kinds of teen relationship drama he’d missed. Kazuichi had always had a better eye for that kind of stuff.

_Kyoko and Hifumi, though? Huh._

Fuyuhiko shook his head, desperately not wanting to focus on that. “Yeah, well, you should think about which version of that story is actually accurate. ‘Cause I’ll give you a hint: between the guys who spent a year planning and orchestrating it, and the group of panicked horny teen amnesiacs who watched it go down for what, two weeks? One of those groups is gonna have a way better idea of what actually happened.”

\-------------------

Chiaki looked at Fuyuhiko for a moment before deciding to just let this conversation pass for now. “I think I have an idea of what happened, probably. I just… found out about it today, so I gotta think about it more.”

She _really_ didn’t want to think about it more, but it was probably important that she did. She’d probably never actually watch it, though.

\-------------------

“You could watch it sometime,” Fuyuhiko offered. “We’ve got it recorded. I can’t guarantee you’ll like what you see, but… well, yeah, think about it.”

\-------------------

“Do you want me to help change the bandages on your shoulder?” Chiaki asked, itching to both change the subject and also do something to distract herself from what was about to happen. She might have offered to have her own finger cut off as an act of solidarity, but that didn’t mean she _liked_ it. She knew it was going to hurt. But she could at least focus on something else, for now. “Hajime showed me how to do the knot and stuff a couple times, so I can do it if you need me to.”

\-------------------

Chiaki offered to change his bandages, and Fuyuhiko’s immediate response was to sit up a little straighter in his chair, as if to prove the injury was nothing to him. For her to see him hurt and weak and bleeding… no, it was fine. Since he was the one in control, and she was his prisoner, and they were both totally clear on that now, it was basically the same as having one of his subordinates do it. Fuyuhiko relaxed again.

“Can’t guarantee you’d like seeing that either.” He slowly and carefully shrugged off the jacket of his suit. The white shirt underneath was soaked with blood by now, but hell, he was determined to stop being ashamed of showing her the messy results of his Despair. “But hey, you wanna poke at it, knock yourself out. Also. Still really fuckin’ weird how you call him Hajime.”

\-------------------

Chiaki stood up and walked around the desk while Fuyuhiko undressed, positioning herself behind and to the side of his chair, so she could get at the knot of his old bandages. She made a confused face at Fuyuhiko’s comment about Hajime’s name before realizing: “I didn’t get a chance to introduce you guys in high school like I wanted to, huh.” It wasn’t a question; more of a sad, quiet realization. Fuyuhiko had met Hajime after whatever had happened to him, and made him like he was now. “I guess he only went by Izuru with you guys. Probably.”

Honestly, she was glad she was having this realization now instead of earlier. Also, she was glad she was standing behind Fuyuhiko right now, so he couldn’t see her look this sad. She quietly pinched her own cheeks and got busy getting the dirty bandages taken off. 

“I think you would have liked Hajime back then. He was fun.” Chiaki paused for a moment, gently lifting the sticky, bloody wrapping off of Fuyuhiko’s wound. Fuyuhiko was right about seeing the bullet wound up close and in person; Chiaki wasn’t a fan. However, it was better than sitting still in silence at this point, waiting for the torture room to be prepped, so she’d take it. She held onto them awkwardly, suddenly realizing she had no idea where to put them -- Fuyuhiko’s office probably had a trash can somewhere, right? “Well, he’s still fun, I think. Just different. And a lot harder to beat at video games now.”

\-------------------

He would have liked Hajime? “Maybe,” said Fuyuhiko. He knew vaguely that Izuru’s body donor had been a reserve course student. Despite the rampant elitism at Hope’s Peak, Fuyuhiko had never found it in himself to look down on the reserve course. Bunch of poor bastards just doing their best to get through school, exactly the same as him. For all he knew, he and this Hajime could have been good friends. “He’s certainly a dick currently, can’t imagine his personality could go anywhere but up.”

\-------------------

Chiaki floundered a bit more with the bandages before eventually just stuffing them into her jacket pocket -- gross, but at least they were out of the way now. “Where do you keep your clean bandages?” she asked, wiping the blood on the outside of her already internally soiled hoodie. “And he’s not a dick! He’s just… uhm…”

Actually, a dick was a pretty good descriptor for Hajime now. But only sometimes! Chiaki took a moment to think of something nicer to say about her best friend. “He’s just a bit more…” She furrowed her brows and puffed her cheeks out, knowing that if she didn’t think of something soon Fuyuhiko was going to call her bluff. “He’s just, uhm. More focused on other stuff?”

That wasn’t _better,_ but it was the best she could do on short notice. 

\-------------------

“Yeah, other stuff like being a dick-” Fuyuhiko began, and was interrupted by Kazuichi bursting back into the room, panicked and out of breath. He took one frantic look around the room and saw the blood on Chiaki’s hoodie and all over her hands, and his face went sheet white.

“Ch-chiaki…! Oh crap! You… you couldn’t wait like _five minutes_ to take her to the torture room?!”

\-------------------

Chiaki jumped as Kazuichi burst into the room, shouting accusations at Fuyuhiko and generally freaking out. 

So par for the course, then.

“Torture room?” Chiaki looked back at Fuyuhiko, pretending to be confused. “I don’t think we have a torture room. We have a tornado shelter, though.”

\-------------------

“You wanna try for two fingers, or what?” said Fuyuhiko, deadpan.

Kazuichi continued to look between them, freaking out. “How are you both so friggin calm right now?! Chiaki! Chiaki we gotta stop the bleeding! Hold on, I… I’ll, um…” He dug frantically through his pockets for a moment, pulled out a Hello Kitty bandaid, realized that this was going to be woefully inadequate at stemming the bleeding on a severed finger, and decided, screw it, Peko could figure it out. He lurched forward and grabbed Chiaki’s sleeve. “I’ll take you to Peko! She was getting ready for this, she’s probably got, uh, gauze or something… Chiaki _come on!!”_

\-------------------

Chiaki stumbled back as Kazuichi grabbed her, torn between giggling at Fuyuhiko’s response to her trolling, and being concerned about Kazuichi freaking out. Deciding it would be safer to go with the latter (for now), she looked over at Kazuichi and showed him her bloody hand.

“He didn’t cut off my finger yet,” she said, wiggling all five of her currently attached appendages for him to see. “The blood is from Fuyuhiko’s bullet wound. Also, do you have clean bandages, Fuyuhiko? We should probably get that wrapped back up.”

\-------------------

“Bottom left drawer,” said Fuyuhiko, who had to be bandaged up often enough in this office that he did indeed have a dedicated desk drawer for it.

Kazuichi’s mouth was moving silently as he counted fingers. “…oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’ moron,” Fuyuhiko grumbled. “Of course I haven’t cut her finger off yet. I’m a fuckin’ professional, I’m gonna wash my goddamn hands first.”

“Oh,” said Kazuichi again, this time finally seeming to register the exposed and bleeding bullet wound in Fuyuhiko’s shoulder. His gaze slid over to the Hello Kitty bandaid still in his hand.

“Absolutely fucking not,” said Fuyuhiko.

\-------------------

Chiaki went up to the drawer and opened it, pulling out a roll of bandages and walking back around to a position where she could wrap the bandage without other stuff getting in the way too much. 

“This is gonna be tight, so it might hurt a little,” she said, starting to wrap the bandages around his wound like the previous bandage, making it as tight as she could while also trying not to cut off circulation. She could practically hear a tiny Hajime voice in the back of her head giving her instructions as she wrapped the gauze and placed the bandages to keep it from falling. She smiled, thinking Hajime would be proud of her for doing so well.

“Okay, all done!” she said, stepping back and putting her hands up like she was told to stop a test. 

\-------------------

“Not bad,” said Fuyuhiko, tentatively rolling his shoulder again. “If the whole video game thing doesn’t work out for you, maybe go for a career as a mob surgeon.” 

\-------------------

“Kazuichi, save that bandaid, okay?” Chiaki added, trying to be encouraging in the face of Kazuichi’s disappointed expression. “You don’t know if you’re ever going to need it.” It was always useful to have _real_ medical supplies around. Chiaki did not want to relive Hajime dumping a half-drunk bottle of crappy vodka on a cut to prevent infection.

\-------------------

“I, uh… yeah,” said Kazuichi, sheepishly sticking the bandaid back into his pocket. “I just thought… yeah.”

Fuyuhiko slid his gaze back to Kazuichi as he pulled his suit jacket back on, once again cold and calculating. “So, anything else you two wanna fill me in on? Anything about today’s escape and who all was involved, and how some idiot people might have let themselves get talked into helping? Anything like that?”

Kazuichi made a little whining noise in the back of his throat, and shot Chiaki a panicked, “help me out here” look. “Haha, what? Nope. Nothing.”

“My lawn’s still on fire,” said Fuyuhiko.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked and realized that maybe getting Kazuichi involved in Kyoko’s escape wasn’t… well, it _was_ a good move, it was probably the nicest thing he’d done since being in Despair, but regarding Fuyuhiko getting mad it had been a bad idea.

“Uhm…” Chiaki wasn’t always the best at thinking on her feet, but it wasn’t exactly a lie to say: “Kyoko tricked him into doing it.” She did not say it was because Kyoko was being mean to Kazuichi on and off for several hours, until he reached a point where he was more annoyed at her than he was scared of Fuyuhiko, and would have done anything to get her out of the house.

\-------------------

“Yeah, I buy that,” said Fuyuhiko immediately, to an indignant “Heeeeey!” from Kazuichi.

It wasn’t _just_ a jab at Kazuichi’s intelligence. (Okay, it was mostly that.) Kyoko Kirigiri was smart, and she was manipulative. Not exactly charismatic, but he’d seen enough footage of the killing game to know she could talk her way out of situations. Still, Kazuichi had been acting weirder than usual lately, in ways that weren’t all entirely explainable by incompetence. He should probably keep an eye on that.

His arm now rebandaged, Fuyuhiko stood up. “Well, Peko’s probably ready for us. Let’s go get this over with.”

\-------------------

Chiaki nodded as Fuyuhiko started to move, letting him walk ahead of her as they left the office. He sounded less-than-thrilled to be doing this; even if it was his duty, Fuyuhiko probably didn’t get a lot of joy out of removing appendages. 

Probably. Okay, with the Despair, it was a toss up, but right now he didn’t seem to be enjoying it, and that was weirdly comforting.

“Should I bring the bandage stuff?” she asked, looking back at where she’d left the roll of gauze lying on his desk. “We’ll need it, probably.”

\-------------------

“Peko’s gonna have some ready,” said Fuyuhiko. He jerked his head in a come hither gesture as they passed Kazuichi in the doorway. “You’re coming too.”

“To the torture room?! What’d _I_ do?”

“Aside from how you _also_ helped Kyoko Kirigiri escape?” Fuyuhiko growled, and Kazuichi went white again.

“Hey, h-hey, that’s not worth a finger, though. It’s not like I rescued her myself or anything!”

“Sure didn’t stop her from leaving, though,” said Fuyuhiko, thoughtfully. Yeah, Kazuichi had definitely been acting weird since he got here. Jumpier than usual. That might have something to do with the looming threat of Izuru’s displeasure, but Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure. Better to keep him close, where he could see what Kazuichi was up to. It’d certainly be easier on his lawn. “I’m not cutting anything off of you,” he said. “Yet. But you’re still coming. Chiaki’s about to lose a finger ‘cause of you, so the least you can do to thank her for taking the heat is be there to fuckin’ watch.”

\-------------------

“You can help me find more cute band-aids to put on it!” Chiaki said, trying to cheer up Kazuichi, who was clearly upset that all of this was happening. Moreso probably worried that Fuyuhiko would hurt _him_ in the process, but still. She didn’t want him upset. “We can find more Hello Kitty ones somewhere. Probably.”

\-------------------

This did indeed manage to successfully distract him. “Okay, you maybe don’t need to focus so much on the Hello Kitty thing,” Kazuichi muttered as the two of them followed Fuyuhiko down the hall. “I mean, I like Hello Kitty as much as the next guy, but I’m not a one mascot guy, you know? I’d take pretty much any character bandage.”

“Really considering cutting something off of you,” Fuyuhiko called over his shoulder.

\-------------------

Chiaki grabbed Kazuichi and pulled him along, and the three of them finally arrived at the tornado shelter. Fuyuhiko made Chiaki and Kazuichi wash their hands (in Kazuichi’s case, Fuyuhiko made him wash them a couple times) before stepping into the room where Peko was placing a whetting stone back into a small drawer while holding a knife.

“Young Master.” Peko gave a sharp, short bow as Fuyuhiko walked into the room, before placing the freshly sharpened knife on the counter along the wall, where Chiaki’s hand would soon be. “Everything is prepared as requested.” She avoided eye contact with Chiaki and Kazuichi as they followed him in, stepping to the side where Chiaki would be standing in case she fell from shock or tried to run. She did her best to not show how uncomfortable she was with all of this, her cold neutral look creating a mask for her to hide behind.

Chiaki, however, was starting to fidget and get nervous. She wanted -- well, she didn’t _want_ this, but she volunteered to do it. It would be kind of dumb to run now; not that she would. (Not that she _could._ ) From what Fuyuhiko said earlier, he would definitely do something to Kazuichi if she ran. She was taking the punishment for both of them. Or rather, her finger was. Plus, Fuyuhiko’d be even _more_ mad at her, and she didn’t want that either.

There wasn’t anything else to distract her now.

“Uhm.” Chiaki said, looking from Peko to Fuyuhiko to Kazuichi (and definitely not to the counter with the knife), trying to find something to say to get herself to relax. “How are we uhm. Gonna do this?”

Maybe not the right thing to ask in regards to trying to get a distraction, but it would work for now. Maybe. Probably? She wasn’t really sure.

Suddenly, Chiaki wished she was back in her room playing Mortal Kombat. She _really_ needed the stress relief after all of this.

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko picked the knife up and turned it over in his hands, regarding it thoughtfully. It smelled faintly of alcohol; Peko had already sterilized it. Part of him was strangely disappointed at that, for some reason, as if he’d wanted those brief few seconds of sterilizing it himself.

“Alright, hand on the counter and pick a finger. We’ll make this real quick and easy on you.”

Standing a little behind Chiaki, Kazuichi’s shade of white was starting to go a little green at the edges. “Hey, uh, I just remembered that Izuru… sorta wants her in one piece? Actually? Not to tell you what you can and can’t chop off of people, or anything. Just thought I’d bring that up, ‘cause he might be mad, y’know?”

Fuyuhiko stared at him until he lapsed into awkward silence. “Izuru doesn’t care,” he said bluntly. “I could chop both her hands off and he wouldn’t care. I don’t know if you’re stupid or what, but you seriously haven’t picked up on that? Izuru just set her loose with us to see what would happen. If I cut her up he’ll just go ‘hm, interesting’ and that’ll be the fuckin’ end of it and you know it. So pull up your big girl panties and stop being such a goddamn wuss, Kazuichi.”

He turned back to Chiaki, who was finally looking visibly nervous about this. Well, discipline was discipline and he had to make good on his word, but he could at least make it quick for her. “Hand. Counter. Come on.”

\-------------------

Chiaki looked at Fuyuhiko and then at both of her hands for a moment, thinking. She had made it this far. She survived the maze with Hajime’s help, and she made it through the Despair world and lived, without Hajime or anyone else to help her until recently. She could do this.

Probably. 

She placed her right hand on the counter and wiggled her pinky finger. “This one,” she said as she looked up at Fuyuhiko holding the knife. She felt the blood drain from her face for a moment before forcing herself to look away, suddenly being very interested in the speckles of ~~what she hoped was~~ dirt spattering the floor next to the counter. Maybe it’d be like a shot. But instead of something going _in_ her body, something was getting removed from her body.

“Uhm… do I have to look?” she asked quietly. Her voice was wobbly. She didn’t know how this worked, but she wouldn’t run. She could do this. She could _do_ this.

\-------------------

Damn it, he wasn’t going to worry about that shaking voice of hers. He was in charge, and Chiaki had to learn her lesson. Fuyuhiko tossed and caught the knife a few times, testing its weight as if he hadn’t used it a million times before. Peko had sharpened it, but maybe he should run it on the whetstone a few more times, just to make sure.

_No, dammit, you’re stalling. Just get it over with so she can stop freaking out._

“No, you don’t have to look. Tell you what, I’ll teach you a little trick. Close your eyes, and start counting back from ten.”

She’d be expecting the knife on one, so he’d make the cut on five. She wouldn’t be expecting it, wouldn’t even have time to flinch in preparation. Fastest, easiest way to do it. (And if there wasn’t a countdown, he was starting to worry that he’d keep finding ways to stall.) Across the room, Kazuichi was looking increasingly like he was going to be sick.

“You’re sure Izuru won’t care? Like, _really_ sure-”

“Count with me,” said Fuyuhiko, ignoring him. The hand not holding the knife cupped Chiaki’s wrist gently but firmly, holding her hand against the counter so she couldn’t jerk it away. “Come on. Ten…”

\-------------------

Chiaki took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She listened as Fuyuhiko started the countdown, and she was proud to say she didn’t run. She stayed right where she was. She released her breath slowly and started to count down with him: “Ten…”

She took another deep breath, trying to force her body to relax and her voice to stop shaking. “Nine…”

She could do this. “E-eight…”

 _She could do this._ “Seven.”

She _had_ to do this also, or Kazuichi might end up losing a finger instead. “Six.”

She tried to focus on all of the Mortal Kombat she was going to play after this. “Fi--”

\-------------------

Something struck Chiaki’s hand, but it wasn’t a knife. Kazuichi had raced forward and slapped his hand over hers, his own trembling fingers eclipsing her own.

“Kazuichi what the fuck?!” said Fuyuhiko, who’d just made the decision to go on four instead, in case, you know, she already knew this trick and was expecting it on five. The knife hadn’t so much as twitched toward her yet, but he still tacked on, “You almost lost a fuckin’ finger!”

“Okay but are you _really sure?!”_ Kazuichi asked in a high-pitched, panicked wail, his hand pressed tightly against Chiaki’s. “Are you really, _super_ sure that Izuru’s not gonna get mad? Not just at me, y’know! He might be mad at you! Maybe think about if he’d be mad at you, ‘cause he might! I’m just saying he might and you don’t know for sure and like, maybe we should, uh… I mean we really want to be sure, you know, before doing anything!”

\-------------------

Chiaki nearly jumped out of her skin when Kazuichi placed his hand over hers, not really registering exactly what he was saying but knowing that he was arguing with Fuyuhiko about… everything? Something. Wasn’t Kazuichi going to make Fuyuhiko mad doing this? 

It took her a bit to register what was being said, but after she was able to piece it together she used her not-being-defended-by-Kazuichi hand to tug gently at his sleeve. “Hey, hey,” she said, trying to get his attention. “I’ll talk to Hajime, okay? He’ll understand, I think.”

\-------------------

“Okay,” said Kazuichi. He did not move his hand. After a moment, Fuyuhiko grabbed his wrist and yanked it away for him.

“What the hell is your problem lately?” he growled, still gripping Kazuichi’s wrist a little too tightly, giving it a threatening little shake. “Izuru doesn’t get _mad_. He’s not gonna kick your ass. You want me to take the blame? I’ll take the blame. He gets on your case about it, which he _won’t,_ because he doesn’t _give a shit,_ I’ll remind him you’re the fuckin’ worst and most powerless Remnant and you couldn’t have stopped me. Happy now? Go back to your fuckin’ corner.”

Kazuichi’s other hand slapped itself over Chiaki’s.

“Fucking hell,” said Fuyuhiko.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked as Kazuichi continued protecting her, even after both she and Fuyuhiko told him he was going to be fine -- though Fuyuhiko was a lot meaner about it. Kazuichi was actually sticking his neck -- or maybe, just his finger -- out for her. 

Chiaki felt a rush of relief, not because her finger wasn’t going to get cut off eventually (that was most definitely still happening, from how Fuyuhiko was acting) but because Kazuichi cared enough to try and protect her. If Fuyuhiko weren’t standing next to him brandishing a knife, she definitely would tell Kazuichi how proud she was of him right now.

“Kazuichi, it’s okay.” It wasn’t, but it was better now. Sort of. “I’ll be fine, I think. Don’t worry about me, alright?”

\-------------------

“I’m not worried!” Kazuichi said, voice still far too sharp and high-pitched. “I mean, I am worried! I’m not worried about you. This is entirely self preservation, on account of how Izuru’s gonna kick my ass! Actually if it were up to me I’d WANT to cut your finger off! For, like, Despair reasons and stuff. But! Izuru will kick my ass! So I’m super sad about missing out on all the dismemberment but I really think we shouldn’t!”

“Uh-huh,” said Fuyuhiko slowly, letting go of Kazuichi’s arm and tossing the knife up and down again, watching this play out with a calculating gaze.

\-------------------

“Kazuichi, I promise I’ll talk to Hajime too, okay?” Chiaki said, trying not to sound scared but also desperately not wanting Fuyuhiko to hurt Kazuichi instead of her. _If things go south, ditch me -- that’s still the plan, right? It’s okay to let go, Kazuichi, this isn’t your fight._

“I’m your class rep, I’ll take responsibility.”

\-------------------

“Chiaki,” said Kazuichi, leaning in until his forehead bumped against hers, eyes very very wide, “Izuru. Will definitely. Kick my ass. Do you understand? I can’t let Fuyuhiko cut your finger off. Because Izuru. Will kick my ass. I need you to understand. That the problem is _Izuru._ I don’t want to stop Fuyuhiko. But. I have to. _Because of Izuru. Chiaki.”_

\-------------------

Chiaki held her breath as Kazuichi leaned into her personal space, very successfully resisted the urge to break down into tears at not being abandoned, and thought for a moment. She knew he wanted to protect her, and she didn’t want him to worry about her… but she was still in _trouble._ She didn’t _want_ to lose a finger. She really really _really_ didn’t want to lose a finger. She _hadn’t done anything wrong._ She was hyper aware of Kazuichi’s hand, still a firm, protective pressure over her fingers. All five of them.

Fuyuhiko was going to be mad at her either way, and if she didn’t go along with this, what else could she do?

….what else _could_ she do?

“Well…” Chiaki floundered, because Kazuichi’s tone was a panicked and insistent _go-with-me-on-this_ and she had to think of _something._ “If Hajime really, _really_ wouldn’t want my finger cut off, I’ll still be in trouble with Fuyuhiko,” she said, looking at Kazuichi but thinking out loud so Fuyuhiko could hear her. “So we’d have to figure something else out. Probably.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko was watching them both, eyes narrowed. “So, Izuru’s the problem, huh?” he said slowly, still tossing the knife in showy circles. “That it, Kazuichi? You don’t want her hurt for Izuru’s sake, huh?”

“Yes!” said Kazuichi eagerly, whipping around to face him. “Yeah, exactly! Izuru would be mad! So we just gotta do something else. We’ve got no choice!”

“Uh-huh,” said Fuyuhiko again. The beginnings of an idea were sliding into place, a vague theory that he definitely didn’t like. “Sure. I shouldn’t forget, you’re just here because Izuru forced you to be. It’s not because you care about Chiaki at all.”

“Y…eah?” said Kazuichi, a little nervously.

“So when you helped Kyoko escape, that was for Izuru too? Izuru desperately wanted that?”

“Hey man, you’re twisting my words around. That was just… I was tricked or something! She talked circles around me! That’s got nothing to do with this! Chiaki, tell him!”

“I just think,” said Fuyuhiko, coldly, “That it sort of seems like you only care about what Izuru wants if it’s something that, coincidentally, you also want.”

“I mean,” said Kazuichi. “Y’know, that’s…”

“If you really want me to chop her fingers off, like you keep insisting, what’s stopping us?” said Fuyuhiko. “Why’s _that_ the line, after all the other shit you pulled today and yesterday? What about bashing her head in with a wrench, huh? Why weren’t you freaking out about him kicking your ass over that?”

He caught the knife and tilted it casually, until the point just happened to be aimed between Kazuichi’s eyes. “I know he gave you _orders,_ but did Izuru, at any point, _actually threaten to kick your ass?”_

Kazuichi swallowed, stiffly.

\-------------------

“Hajime and I are friends, Fuyuhiko.” Chiaki pointed out, seeing where this was going and very suddenly on the defensive for Kazuichi’s sake. “I don’t know if he actually said anything, but he probably wouldn’t be happy either way.” 

There was a brief pause in the conversation, before Chiaki tacked on for safe measure: “I’m not saying I shouldn’t still be in trouble, or that you shouldn’t be mad at me, but... I don’t want anyone else getting in trouble,” she said with a new resolution in her voice. “If you _have_ to cut off my finger, then you can still do that. But if cutting off my finger will get you and Peko and Kazuichi in trouble, then we should think of something else. Because of. Uhm.” She faltered, suddenly wishing this was more like a simulator with pre-written options; that’d make this so much easier to raise flags. “Because of Hajime getting mad. He’s the leader, right? You’ve gotta follow his orders.” 

Hopefully, that was enough. _Please be enough._ Chiaki prayed to Hope or Arceus or whatever else that Fuyuhiko thought that was enough. At least for now. _Please._

\-------------------

Honestly, it was an immense relief to be given a good excuse not to do this. Fuyuhiko wanted to set the knife down and agree, yeah, Izuru’s orders, what can you do. He almost opened his mouth to take the out, his hand starting to drift toward the counter to set the knife aside.

But they were both staring up at him now with those eager eyes. A united front, working together, saying the same thing, arguing that he couldn’t possibly do this, that there had to be another way. _Wait, what the fuck,_ thought Fuyuhiko. _How long has he been on her side?_

 _How long has he been on_ Hope’s _side?_

That calm relief evaporated, scoured away by the Despair rising like an acid in his throat. Fuyuhiko’s grip tightened furiously on the hilt of the knife. He’d had enough information to figure this out from the beginning, he just hadn’t paid _attention._

“You’re right,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking. Izuru ordered you to protect her from me. I shouldn’t cut her finger off.”

Kazuichi gave a sigh of relief, sagging against the edge of the counter, his hand still over Chiaki’s.

Fuyuhiko flipped the knife one final time, caught it by the flat of the blade, and shoved the hilt in Kazuichi’s direction.

“ _You_ should cut her finger off. Absolutely nothing in Izuru’s orders against that.”

\-------------------

Oh. Oh, no. This was bad. This was really, _really_ bad.

Chiaki stared at Kazuichi with the same intensity as he stared at the knife, unsure of how to proceed from here but determined to darn well try.

Unfortunately the only solution Chiaki could think of on such short notice involved throwing Kazuichi under the bus a little bit, so to speak. "Will he be able to?" she asked, looking at Fuyuhiko -- who was much easier to look at when the blade of the knife he was holding wasn’t pointed at Chiaki. “He’s the worst and most powerless Remnant, right?”

It felt a little mean bringing that back up again, and using Fuyuhiko’s own words against him might make Fuyuhiko angry, but hopefully Kazuichi wouldn't be offended and would catch what she was trying to do. She knew overall it was a weak counter to Fuyuhiko’s ultimatum, but right now it was all they had.

Because Fuyuhiko was trying to make Kazuichi prove he was still loyal to Despair by doing this. It made sense; Remnants of Despair hurt people without so much as a second thought. Kazuichi doing it for Fuyuhiko wouldn’t be difficult at all, if he was still in Despair.

But he wasn’t, right? Chiaki didn't like this. Not at all.

\-------------------

Kazuichi stared at the proffered knife. His free hand reached out to take it and hesitated, hovering over the hilt. Behind his back, his other hand tightened a bit on Chiaki’s, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Ah, yeah, me? C’mon man, this isn’t really my thing,” Kazuichi said with a weak grin. “I’m Worst Remnant. It’s like she said, I can’t do it. I’d probably make it too messy. Like, you could do it in one cut, but I’d mess up and have to, like, saw at it for a while. Totally mutilate her hand, y’know? When it comes to punishing her or whatever, that’s going a little too far.”

That was what Chiaki was getting at, right? His eyes flickered over to her, trying to see her reaction.

\-------------------

Chiaki actually felt the blood drain from her face as Kazuichi described how he'd cut off her finger. She _knew_ he was trying to play up the fact that he couldn’t do it for Fuyuhiko, but that _did_ actually sound… awful. And very, _very_ painful.

She felt Kazuichi squeeze her hand, and she knew he didn't mean it. She squeezed back. "That sounds like it would hurt," she said, trying to sound or act like that didn't actually scare her. (She was failing, very obviously so, but her face was brave all things considered.) "Probably."

\-------------------

“It’s a sharp knife, Chaiki. You’ll be fine,” said Fuyuhiko, still wearing that cold false grin. “Hey, Kazuichi, I wouldn’t be mad at you if you screwed it up, though. Actually, after what she pulled just losing a finger’s getting off easy. So she has it coming if you scar her up a little.”

Well no, Fuyuhiko didn’t want that at all, but this wasn’t about Chikai’s finger anymore. It was about gauging Kazuichi’s reaction. He moved forward slightly, so that Kazuichi had to back up further into the counter, jostling it and spilling a few cotton balls and bandages onto the floor. “Think about it. It’d be fun, right? You’re the low guy on the totem pole, all you ever get to do is build shit for us and get ordered around. Don’t you want, for _once,_ to be as feared as the rest of us? Go ahead, I’m letting you have this one. You’re welcome.”

Kazuichi, pale and fidgety, looked away from Chiaki and back at the knife. “Izuru-”

“Wouldn’t have cared if you bashed her head in, right? He only cares about what _I_ do to her. Those are his orders. That’s what his little fuckin’ experiment’s about. You can do whatever you want to her.”

“Yeah, but I-”

He prodded Kazuichi in the stomach with the hilt of the knife, contagious Despair acrid in his throat. “Hey, you do want to, right? Just imagine the look on her face. …Well, you don’t have to imagine it, actually. It’ll probably be just like _back then._ ”

Kazuichi’s hand slackened against Chiaki’s. His eyes had gone a little unfocused.

\-------------------

“Stop.”

Chiaki strengthened her grip on Kazuichi’s hand and stepped in front of him, eyes narrowed and shoulders squared. She would take any and all heat for what she did to help Kyoko escape, but she wasn’t about to allow Fuyuhiko to bully Kazuichi into doing something he didn’t want to do just because _she_ got in trouble. He hadn’t done Despair stuff in six weeks. (Well, he’d tried to kill her with a wrench, but the important part was that he’d only _tried,_ he hadn’t actually _done_ it.) The idea of what had happened to her making Kazuichi slip was just… too much.

(Something about the nonchalant way Fuyuhiko brought it up just didn’t sit right with her. But also, she didn’t want to talk about it.)

“We don’t know what Hajime will or won’t do if I get hurt,” she said instead, focusing on defending her friend, backing him up and trying _very_ hard not to viscerally remember what it was like to be suddenly stabbed with spikes in the thigh. And arms. And torso. Chiaki’s stomach swooped like she was falling, and she pushed through it. Now wasn’t the time to panic. Now was the time to protect.

“Because he’s Hajime, and Hajime does whatever he wants to. If Kazuichi thinks Hajime will hurt _him_ if _I_ get hurt, or if he’ll hurt _you_ or _Peko_ because _I_ get hurt, I don’t want to risk it. Maybe he _won’t_ care, but don’t be mean to Kazuichi if he’s worried about it, because he also _might_ care, right? Also, can we _stop_ calling him the Worst, Kazuichi _isn’t_ the worst! Stop being a jerk at Kazuichi! He’s your friend!”

\-------------------

“Kazuichi is worried about literally everything, all the time,” Fuyuhiko shot back. “This is not bold new ground for him.” He’d been standing so close to Kazuichi that he had to back up a bit when Chiaki shoved her way between them. The realization struck him suddenly that he shouldn’t have said any of that in front of her. He’d been so focused on Kazuichi that he’d kind of dismissed the fact that this was, at its core, an argument about chopping off her body parts, and that she was probably already pretty on edge about that. She was handling it well, and he had a lot of respect for that, but all this dragging it out and arguing about it couldn’t be making it any easier for her, either.

“Okay,” he said, shortly. “Fine, I won’t be a jerk to Kazuichi. This conversation ain’t really about him anyway. I’ll just ask you. This whole… fixing our Despair thing. You went to him first. Don’t try lying about that now, you told me weeks ago that you woke up in his mancave. So tell me honestly, Chiaki. _How’d that go._ ”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko’s question helped her focus on something other than the sudden swooping feeling of falling down an elevator shaft that her mind was trying to conjure up, but only because her worry for Kazuichi took precedence over… well, she could take it out on Mortal Kombat later. 

“I did see Kazuichi first…” she said, trailing off for a moment and squeezing Kazuichi’s hand behind her. Everything was going to be okay, no matter what. Fuyuhiko wasn’t allowed to bully him, so he _definitely_ wasn’t allowed to hurt him. Somehow, Chiaki would make sure of that.

First, though, she needed to think about what she was going to say.

\-------------------

Kazuichi, still staring off at nothing in particular, gave a little shiver at the mention of his name, and Fuyuhiko remembered belatedly that he’d recently tried to kill Chiaki. It had been right as she’d started admitting to her real goal of “fixing” their Despair, so he’d probably panicked and tried to shut her up in order to hide this very secret.

He flipped the knife around and grasped it firmly by the hilt again. If Kazuichi so much as twitched towards trying anything, he’d be ready.

(It hadn’t really registered that he’d gone back into “protect Chiaki” mode, when a moment ago he’d been in “punish Chiaki” mode. But hey, she couldn’t snitch on herself if Kazuichi killed her, so it really didn’t count.)

\-------------------

Chiaki watched as Fuyuhiko flipped the knife around, and pressed herself further in between him and Kazuichi; she had hoped that Fuyuhiko wouldn’t actually _hurt_ Kazuichi if they had ended up talking about it. They were all friends, right? Kazuichi did tend to worry a lot, and Chiaki knew that, but she didn’t want to think that Fuyuhiko would hurt them.

(One almost missing finger later, and Chiaki was still desperately clinging to that hope.)

She hadn’t planned on telling Fuyuhiko about Kazuichi yet; not because she didn't want to, but because Kazuichi had made her promise not to. She squeezed Kazuichi's hand again, before continuing on: "Kazuichi isn't helping me with you guys. He and I just hung out a lot when I first woke up, and…" _He came out of Despair, kind of?_ She did not say, instead looking over her shoulder at Kazuichi to gauge his response to all of this.

\-------------------

Kazuichi was still staring off into the middle distance with unfocused eyes. “Yeah,” he echoed faintly. “We just hung out a lot.”

“And?” prompted Fuyuhiko.

Kazuichi blinked, suddenly snapping back into focus. “And what?”

“Don’t make me fuckin’ say it! You think I _want_ to be accusing you of this?”

“Yeah,” said Kazuichi suddenly and sharply. “Yeah, actually. I think if there’s something you want to accuse me of, you should stop messing around and say it.”

Fuyuhiko stared at him. _Did he just… grow a spine?_

(Kazuichi’s hand was still tightly clasped around Chiaki’s, his fingernails digging painfully into her skin and his whole hand shaking so much that it was making her arm vibrate slightly, but some kind of fight or flight response had finally been activated, and it had swung wildly and against all odds towards _fight._ )

\-------------------

Chiaki squeezed back, trying to be comforting. (Her hands were really taking a beating today.) She watched Fuyuhiko's reaction to Kazuichi snapping at him, but was overall quiet. 

She took a moment to glance over at Peko, who was silent but observing the conversation with an intense look in her eyes. Like she was waiting for someone to make a move. Chiaki didn't blame her; she wasn’t sure what Peko would do, if things went really bad. She wasn’t sure Peko knew, either.

\-------------------

“Fine,” said Fuyuhiko. “Fine, I’ll straight up ask you. Are you still in fuckin’ Despair, or did Chiaki Nanami talk you out of it?”

Kazuichi gave Chiaki’s hand one final squeeze before letting go of it with a deep, shaky breath. And then he bent over double with a bark of loud and hysterical laughter.

“THAT’S what this is about?!”

Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure how to react to this complete 180 in Kazuichi’s attitude. He gritted his teeth, and his hand tightened on the knife. “Don’t try to fuckin’ act like you didn’t know that! She says she’s gonna fix our Despair, and then she’s alone with you for who knows how long-”

Kazuichi was gasping with laughter, still doubled over. “Hah, I thought you were gonna accuse me of something _serious,_ like cheating on Miss Sonia or something! Man, I’M supposed to be the paranoid one! You’re stealing my thing! You CAN’T fix Despair, y’know, it’s like, wired into our brains! Scientifically! Something about the, uh, prefrontal cortex, and artificial addiction, and-” He struggled futilely to remember Kyoko’s exact words. “Bio… biochemical?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” said Fuyuhiko.

“I’m saying, we just hung out! It’s not like Chiaki came up with some kind of un-brainwashing video!”

He leaned back casually against the counter again, grinning a wide and sharp-toothed smile. There was something strained about his expression, a wild, too-bright look in his eyes that wasn’t quite Despair but might have been somewhere on the edge of it. “I’m just being nice to her, man. You’ve been letting her think she’s getting through to you, right? I’m doing the exact same thing!”

“You’re not that good an actor,” said Fuyuhiko, uncertainly.

“I mean, it doesn’t take that much acting ability to just, y’know, not chop parts off of her,” said Kazuichi. He turned his head to Chiaki, that rictus grin stretched across his face as if to prevent any other expression from creeping up on him. “Sorry, Fuyuhiko went and screwed that up, I guess. Can we still be friends?”

\-------------------

Chiaki watched as Kazuichi gathered up all of his power and told the most convincing lie of his life. Fuyuhiko seemed to be at least kind of buying it, which was the most important thing. The two boys talked it out, and the tension that had wracked up in the room suddenly started to… well, not _settle,_ it super duper didn’t _settle,_ but shift? It was a weird, in between sort of feeling. Like making it to the final stage of a boss fight with only the last sliver of your health bar.

Kazuichi gave Chiaki that too-toothy smile, asking if they were still friends even though she hadn’t ‘actually gotten him out of Despair’ and she nodded numbly, not really sure what to do otherwise. "Yeah,” she said blankly, keeping her response short, because Kazuichi could not maintain a more convoluted lie. “We're still friends."

\-------------------

 _Oh, that’s a whole heaping helping of bullshit,_ thought Fuyuhiko.

\-------------------

"Hey, Fuyuhiko?" Chiaki said, clinging to that last bit of health. Maybe if she distracted Fuyuhiko, he wouldn’t call Kazuichi’s bluff. "If someone really _did_ decide to not be in Despair anymore, what would you do? Why is it so bad for you guys to just… stop?"

\-------------------

“If one of us decided to quit,” Fuyuhiko said, his eye still locked on Kazuichi, watching his reactions. “If one of the Remnants of Despair just fuckin’ woke up one day, _not_ in Despair anymore? That’s the nightmare scenario. We couldn’t trust that bastard not to immediately betray us, because if they’re not in Despair anymore they’d HAVE to betray us. They’d have a fuckin’ conscience, wouldn’t they? So we’d have to take them out before they went to the Future Foundation and got all chummy with people like Kyoko Kirigiri.”

\-------------------

(Behind Chiaki, hiding beneath her mask of tense neutrality, Peko Pekoyama felt the words _not in Despair_ and _nightmare scenario_ and _betray us_ as though the Young Master had struck her face. She couldn’t say she hadn’t betrayed him; not now, not after all of the co-conspiring she’d done with Chiaki and Kazuichi behind the Young Master’s back. But even then, she’d waited until someone who could actually _help_ came along; someone who didn’t want his head on a pike, someone who actually looked past the ocean of Despair and saw the drowning man. 

Nothing moved; her expression didn’t shift, but something inside of her seemed to finally break. Had she been unwittingly betraying her Young Master -- her oyabun, her leader, her wielder -- while being loyal to him all this time?)

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko noticed nothing. Peko was nothing more than a prop in the back of the room, a piece of furniture among the other torture implements. His attention was still focused entirely on Kazuichi. Kazuichi’s face was still frozen in that grin, but there was sweat beading at his temples, and his knuckles, gripping the edge of the counter as if for support, were going white.

“We all watch each other, Chiaki,” he said, answering her question while staring at Kazuichi. “We’ve got a system, and if somebody steps out of line, the rest of us swoop in and take care of it. Hell, it’s dangerous for me just keeping you around, in case somebody more important than Kazuichi gets the wrong idea. That’s why there’s gotta be consequences. That’s why you’ve gotta lose a finger. _Right,_ Kazuichi?”

“Right!!” said Kazuichi, far too loudly and cheerfully, that look in his eyes teetering dangerously towards Despair.

\-------------------

Chiaki stared at Fuyuhiko, taking in the information he’d just given her and letting it process. It was… a lot to process. Chiaki knew that this would be risky from the get go, and…

She followed Fuyuhiko’s gaze and glanced up at Kazuichi, who was frozen and delirious-looking. 

_We’d have to take them out,_ Fuyuhiko had said. 

_That’s why you’ve gotta lose a finger,_ Fuyuhiko had said. 

When put in that context… Chiaki didn’t even need the finger she picked to play video games. She’d be fine without it, even if losing it would hurt, probably. (Definitely.)

“Okay.” Chiaki nodded, to herself more than to the boys, before gently nudging Kazuichi to the side, putting her hand on the counter again, and spreading her pinky as far away from her other fingers as she could before closing her eyes. “Tell me when to start counting again, okay?”

_Kazuichi. Ditch me._

\-------------------

Both Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were startled when Chiaki tiredly turned around and actually placed her hand back onto the counter. Fuyuhiko’s respect for her went up another couple of notches.

He gave Kazuichi one last warning glare. “You and I aren’t done with this talk. We’ll pick it up later.” _Privately,_ he thought, _without Chiaki here to bail you out._

He shoved Kazuichi aside roughly and stood next to Chiaki, the knife in his hand. Kazuichi stumbled back with a little noise of protest. “Alright, we’re done dragging this out.”

All he had to do was cut her finger off. He had no idea how this had gotten so ridiculously convoluted. Just cut her finger off, like he’d done a million times, and move on with his life. No more stalling, no countdowns, just raise the knife and cut it off. Just cut it off. Just do it already, just move the knife and cut it off. With the knife. Move the knife. This isn’t going to work unless you physically move the knife. Come on, seriously? Move the knife and-

“Hey, you know what?” said Kazuichi, suddenly shoving him back. “We’re NOT done with this talk.”

\-------------------

Chiaki’s eyes snapped open as she looked over just in time to see Kazuichi shove Fuyuhiko. 

_Dang it, Kazuichi, don’t, it’s not worth it!_ Chiaki didn’t say, because that’d just confirm all of Fuyuhiko’s suspicions. Her mind raced with things to do -- she couldn’t let Kazuichi do this, he was going to get himself killed, no --

He was going to die. Kazuichi was going to _die right here_ and it was going to be _Chiaki’s fault_ \-- 

But she couldn’t tell him to stop, because then he’d still die --

Kazuichi was… he was…

Chiaki’s mind was racing a million miles an hour, her stomach reeling and her body falling, and Chiaki was frozen in place, staring wide eyed and terrified at the scene before her, unable to move or think or feel anything else.

\-------------------

“Kazuichi, god dammit, I don’t have time for this,” Fuyuhiko growled, still too focused on regaining motor function in his motionless, rebellious hand to be as angry about being shoved as he probably should have been.

“No, screw you!” said Kazuichi, gritting his teeth. “You accused me of some real serious crap just now, saying I’m not in Despair! I’m actually, like, kind of offended! You think you can just drop that?”

“We-” Fuyuhiko began, and Kazuichi cut him off indignantly.

“No way! You don’t get to drop that! You want me to prove my loyalty or whatever stupid yakuza thing you’re doing? Fine! Give me that knife!!”

And then, to Fuyuhiko’s _utter horror,_ Kazuichi spat into both his hands, rubbed them together, wiped them off on his filthy, oil-stained jumpsuit, and slapped one hand over Chiaki’s to hold her still while the other yanked the knife out of Fuyuhiko’s slack, unresisting grasp.

He raised the knife in the air as if his plan was just to start wildly stabbing until by random luck he hit a finger, and Fuyuhiko lunged forward and smacked his arm to the side. The knife buried itself in the wood of the counter with a dull thunk.

“You… you IDIOT!” Fuyuhiko screamed at him, blinded by rage. “That’s DISGUSTING, that knife was DISINFECTED!! We don’t want to KILL her, we’re not trying to give her fucking gangrene!! Wash your hands again! Both of you, go wash your hands again!! Oh my _FUCKING GOD!!”_

They were both staring at him, and Fuyuhiko pointed to the door and shouted again, _“NOW!!”_

Kazuichi grinned languidly at him. “Sure, man. If you say so.” He grabbed Chiaki by the intact, five-fingered hand, and pulled her quickly out of the room.

They passed the bathroom where they were supposed to be washing their hands. Kazuichi kept walking.


	11. A Poorly Planned Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91, and Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko were played by RedPen.

Chiaki felt her hand be grabbed, and felt her body be dragged from the room by Kazuichi. She felt her legs moving, and her five fingered, spit covered hand being pulled on, but it was like her actual ability to make thoughts had decided it would rather hole up in its room and play Pokemon instead. She felt like she was letting a friend take control of the game while she watched, as opposed to playing herself. She didn’t protest to anything that Kazuichi did while they were supposed to go wash their hands; she semi-blindly followed Kazuichi past the bathroom, the kitchens, through the front door and out of the front gate. It wasn’t until they’d reached the city beyond that Chiaki seemed to take the controller back, blinking back into existence and having everything that had just happened -- from Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko fighting in the tornado shelter, until now -- go fuzzy.

She… should be worried about that, probably. Instead, Chiaki focused on focusing, and stated the obvious: 

“Oh. We’re outside.”

\-------------------

“Yep!” said Kazuichi, cheerfully.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked and looked around for a moment, trying to parse what was happening after being mentally checked out for the past ten minutes. “Why are we outside?” Chiaki asked, doing her best to remember what had happened and coming almost blank, with the exception of Fuyuhiko screaming his head off. “We were supposed to… wash our hands? In a bathroom. I think.”

\-------------------

“I mean! That’ll definitely happen eventually!” said Kazuichi, still steering her along down a street that was quickly going from pristine and well-maintained to post-apocalyptic wreckage the further they got from Fuyuhiko’s property. “Pretty sure we can’t, you know, avoid that, ahaha!” He had not dropped that wide grin, but it was definitely looking increasingly strained around the edges. “Why, you gotta go now? Can you hold it a while? It’s just, I’m in the middle of a thing. Plan. Middle of a plan.”

\-------------------

“Plan?” Chiaki asked, before realizing what was happening: “Are we running away? Kazuichi, no! That’ll make Fuyuhiko more angry!”

\-------------------

He continued to pull her along insistently. “Hah, no, it’s… it’s fine! ‘Cause by the time he realizes we’re gone, we’ll be… hehe… we’ll be gone! See, it’s genius! There can’t be consequences if the consequences can’t catch us!”

\-------------------

Chiaki gave the back of Kazuichi’s head a deadpan look as he continued to pull her along, before turning around and looking down the street behind her. 

“Doesn’t Fuyuhiko have a car?”

\-------------------

“He… has several, yeah,” said Kazuichi, walking a little faster. “No, I, uh, haha, I definitely planned for that! Uh, turn here.” He steered them down a random alleyway, a little too narrow for one of Fuyuhiko’s cars to slip through. “Um.. fire escape. there’s a fire escape! See, I know what I’m doing! Hold on!”

Kazuichi let go of Chiaki and started jumping for the ladder of the fire escape winding down the side of one of the buildings. On the third try he managed to grab it, and both he and the ladder came crashing down with a loud CLANG. “Can you… can you climb? You okay to climb? If you can’t climb you can get on my back, yeah? Hah, no cars on the roof! Everything is under control!”

\-------------------

Chiaki looked at the ladder, the idea of climbing it suddenly seeming like… well, like a lot. Kazuichi offering to let her hold on to him to climb it was tempting… 

Wait, she was supposed to be trying to convince him to go back to Fuyuhiko, not keep running away.

Kazuichi looked so stressed, though. She thought for a moment, before just…

“Can you carry me okay?”

\-------------------

“Yeah, I got you,” Kazuichi said, immediately kneeling down so she could climb onto his back. It was a familiar motion for both of them; he’d piggybacked her around a lot, back when her legs were too atrophied to walk and her arms too weak to steer the bulky and inconvenient old wheelchair Izuru had produced from somewhere for her.

“Hang on tight.” Chiaki clinging to his back, he hiked a foot up on the ladder and began climbing, as quickly as he dared while supporting her weight. They reached the first landing and the ladder transitioned into a flight of narrow metal stairs, but Kazuichi didn’t put her down, instead hooking one arm under her knee to steady her as he started up.

“I was lying,” he told her as he climbed, getting a little out of breath. “About, uh, well, all of that. Pretending to not be in Despair, and just acting like I was being nice to you. I don’t know if you caught that, or whatever, but I didn’t want you to think I meant it. I mean! I am being nice to you, but… Saying all that stuff was part of the plan, y’know? You probably know. Just. Heh. Just putting that out there. That I’m still on your side. And stuff.”

\-------------------

Chiaki nuzzled her face into Kazuichi’s jumpsuit while clinging to him, listening to him explain himself. She was surprisingly comfortable doing this, all things considered. She could probably fall asleep like this.

She wouldn’t, but she could.

“I know,” she said, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “You are being nice to me, and I knew you were faking it, it’s okay. I believe you.”

\-------------------

“Okay,” said Kazuichi breathlessly. “Okay. Hah. Cool. Okay.” They reached the fourth landing when his knees gave out and he sat down hard, rattling the whole fire escape again. “O…. kay. Haha. Hahahaha! Chiaki!” His shoulders shook with a sudden flood of hysterical giggles. “Chiaki, he just… he just straight up called me out! And I’m not dead! Hah, yeah, _suck it_ Fuyuhiko!!”

Realizing Fuyuhiko would probably send someone after them as soon as he realized they’d just up and left, and that they should probably be lying low and being quiet, Kazuichi bit the sleeve of his jumpsuit to stifle his giggling, shoulders still shaking. “He just called me out and I _shoved_ him! Ahahaha! I… I should be dead. I think I just had a near death experience. Flirted with death. M-made out with death. There was tongue. Ehehehehehehe!!”

\-------------------

“There was only tongue cos you licked me,” Chiaki mumbled, her sleepiness starting to catch up to her. She got off of Kazuichi and stretched, letting out a big yawn and rubbing her eyes before checking on Kazuichi. “You okay?”

\-------------------

Kazuichi continued giggling into his sleeve. Was he okay? Of course he was okay. He was amazing! He wasn’t dead! Chiaki wasn’t missing a finger! And sure, Fuyuhiko would probably hunt them down and shoot them in the street, because he’d now officially mutinied and there was no going back from that, and the Remnants of Despair would all be his enemies, and Chiaki hadn’t even really WANTED to be rescued and Izuru would probably still kick his ass for ruining the experiment, but for some reason all of that just made him giggle harder. Euphoria was blooming at the back of his head. They were doomed. Alive but doomed, and Kazuichi felt really… _really good_ … about… that…

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, not allowed, _not allowed_. Kazuichi felt a sudden stab of panic at that, at six weeks (and three days and seventeen hours and… crap, he’d lost track of the minutes, crap) of cold turkey suddenly spiraling on the edge of going down the drain at the amazing, _amazing_ feeling of having screwed up his life beyond fixing.

“Y-yeah,” he said shakily, into his sleeve, trying to force that euphoria back, fighting off the rising Despair as it tried to drag him under. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m great. I’m _really_ great.”

Chiaki had had a crappy enough day. This was no longer Chiaki’s problem. This was Kazuichi’s problem, and dang if Kazuichi wasn’t going to deal with it.

“You… haha… you’re tired, right? You can just… just conk out wherever. I’ll keep you safe. You’re safe with me. You’re _safe_.”

\-------------------

Chiaki watched as Kazuichi tried to compose himself, seeming to be okay but on edge. She gently patted his head to comfort him and sat down next to him, yawning again and pulling up her hood so she could lean back against the brick wall. 

“We should go back after,” Chiaki mumbled, snuggling into the wall and already beginning to fall asleep. “I don’t want Fuyuh’ko to get madder… at us...”

It didn’t take too much longer after that for her to fall asleep, her head leaning against his shoulder and the wall behind her. 

\-------------------

Kazuichi bit his sleeve as Chiaki curled up beside him, further stifling the giggling he couldn’t quite seem to get under control. He’d said he would keep her safe, and she was _trusting_ him with that, falling asleep on his shoulder as if he actually had the power to protect her, as if he wasn’t teetering on the edge of the kind of full-blown Despair breakdown he hadn’t had in a month and a half.

Screw it. If he went under, he was _not_ snapping out of it to discover that he’d bashed her brains in with a wrench.

Trying not to disturb the girl sleeping contentedly beside him, warm and soft and alive against his side, Kazuichi reached into one of his deep pockets and pulled out his monkey wrench, the one he’d very recently tried to kill her with. He flung it as hard as he could off the fire escape. It struck the bricks of the building across from them in a little shower of dust and chips of brick, and then fell to the alley below.

Another wrench followed, and then a claw hammer, and then a variety of screwdrivers and pliers and bolt cutters, a small soldering iron, a dremel, a handful of miscellaneous bolts and nails and screws and bits of wire that clattered like rain against the street. Anything he could kill her with. Anything he could even hurt her with, if he got creative enough. He stood guard between her and a Remnant of Despair, hurling his weapons away until he reached into his pockets again and found nothing left to throw.

Kazuichi’s shoulders relaxed, his breathing evening, the giggling gone.

He wasn’t on the edge of it. Not really. Not in any way he couldn’t come back from, if he wanted. He took a deep breath, in and out, and reminded himself firmly not to focus on it. Sure it felt good. Like, _really_ good. But he wasn’t gonna dwell on all the crap that had gone wrong today. Even though letting himself go under would mean he didn’t have to think about any of it… _nope, stop, none of that._

No. Okay. Yeah. Bad things were happening. But bad things were ALWAYS happening. It would be a better use of his time to come up with some kind of plan to fix it. He was good at fixing things.

He put an arm around Chiaki and rested his own head against hers. Yeah, this was fixable. This was all totally fixable. Nothing to Despair about. Fuyuhiko was probably gonna send Peko after them, and that meant things hadn’t gone to hell yet. Peko was on their side.

~~~~~

“…Fucking hell.” said Fuyuhiko, stopping dead halfway through angrily scrubbing at the counter with disinfectant. He looked up at Peko, utterly confused as to how he’d ended up living in a parallel world where this could happen. “Peko… he played me. Kazuichi Soda _fuckin’ played me.”_

\-------------------

Peko was wondering when Fuyuhiko would notice. She didn’t say anything; it would have been disrespectful to call the Young Master out on such an obvious farce. (It totally wasn’t because she didn’t want Chiaki to get her finger cut off. That’d be mutiny.)

She maintained her neutral expression, looking to the door as if she had just now realized something was amiss. “That would explain why it is taking so long for them to return from the restroom.”

\-------------------

“FUCK!” said Fuyuhiko, throwing the rag against the counter. “I’m gonna kill him! I’m gonna make him WISH I’d killed him!” He turned to Peko, furiously. “Find them. They’re probably making a run for it, but Kazuichi’s… Kazuichi. They can’t have gone too far.”

So, he had his confirmation. Kazuichi had fallen out of Despair. And Chiaki… whatever she’d done to him, it _worked_. She’d undone the unfixable brainwashing. Something about that terrified him, almost enough to just let them run. But no, he had to take control back. He would not be the Remnant who let this slide.

“Use what you need to. My cars, my men… whatever. Just bring them the hell back.”

\-------------------

Peko gave Fuyuhiko a sharp bow in response, and them immediately left the torture chamber and headed towards the front door. She began issuing orders as if she were suddenly the head of the Kuzuryu clan, and men who had seen Kazuichi leave but had assumed things were fine since Chiaki wasn’t putting up a struggle (which seemed odd, considering that right before all of this Chiaki had seemed to accept her fate, and this was all Chiaki’s idea in the first place) stated that the two of them had gone out of the house, and into the city.

As the Young Master had so eloquently put it earlier: _fuck._

Her orders were simple enough, after she figured out how long ago they had left and what direction they had headed in: take weapons, but do not use lethal force. Find them quickly, but do not capture them. Only observe. If they are found, it was to be reported to Peko immediately. The men couldn’t know what was happening, otherwise it might be seen as a blight on Fuyuhiko, and Peko wouldn’t have that. No, it was best if Peko dealt with this situation personally.

After the orders were issued, Peko walked to the front gate, and waited. The Kuzuryuu clan was efficient and capable; they would find Kazuichi and Chiaki soon. Fuyuhiko was right about them not being able to get very far. In the meantime…

 _“If one of us decided to quit… That’s the nightmare scenario.”_ The Young Master’s words replayed unbidden in Peko’s mind. _“We couldn’t trust that bastard not to immediately betray us.”_

She had allowed Fuyuhiko to do as he wished all this time; destroy the world, drive humanity insane, push his fellow classmates into the same. She was willing to kill -- she was a swordswoman, after all -- but this… perhaps she needed to speak with the Young Master regarding herself and her motives. Soon. She could accept any punishment for her lying, but she was beginning to think that hiding herself from this and continuing to act as nothing but a tool wasn’t going to progress things much further.

As Peko had predicted, it didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko’s men to locate Kazuichi and Chiaki. She nodded to the messenger, and took a car to get there as soon as possible, stopping just before reaching the alleyway where the two of them had been spotted. Kazuichi’s tools were scattered across the alleyway, some of them twisted and broken from the fall.

Peko got out of the car, walking to the fire escape and climbing up the ladder -- slowly, but with enough noise that Kazuichi and Chiaki could hear her coming from her first step. The last thing she wanted to do was spook her fellow Remnant.

She walked up the fire escape and found a scene that would have been sweet given any other circumstance. Chiaki was asleep, her head lolling on Kazuichi’s shoulder. It did explain why Chiaki didn’t put up much of a fight while they were escaping; with all of the emotional tension in the torture room, she must’ve been exhausted. 

“Kazuichi,” Peko said curtly but quietly. She crossed her arms, looking down at the two of them. “You both need to come back with me.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi looked up at her, not moving because he didn’t want to wake Chiaki. “Uh… no?”

\-------------------

Peko let out a sigh, leaning back against the railing of the fire escape. “Kazuichi, I’m not asking,” she said, looking over at Chiaki. “Young Master Fuyuhiko is upset with both of you at this point, but I think you know what will happen if you leave his territory. You may have the occasional ability to stand up for yourself and Chiaki against the Young Master and I, but what about Gundam? Nekomaru? Mikan?” She didn’t even _bother_ mentioning how he’d most likely fold like wet paper if Sonia asked him to Despair again. Not with Chiaki sleeping less than a meter away. “Neither of you have a plan or a place to stay outside of the Young Master’s home; everyone knew you lived underneath Hope’s Peak, you made yourself very easy to find.”

\-------------------

“That doesn’t matter!” said Kazuichi, his voice a hoarse whine of a whisper. It was the natural result of trying to keep his voice down for Chiaki’s sake, while at the same time wanting to whine very loudly about it. “The world’s big, we can go anywhere! I’ve got skills. I can build, like, a bunch of robots to protect us and Chiaki can pilot them with a controller, and we can live in a tricked out armored motor home like in all those zombie movies! A-and anyway…” he added, losing steam a little, “Standing up to everybody’s not a problem if I just… y’know, never talk to any of you guys ever again.”

\-------------------

“You’re going to build robots and a motor home?” Peko quipped, raising an eyebrow at him. “With all of the broken tools that are scattered all over the ground? That’d be an impressive feat, I’m sure.”

\-------------------

“Look, the tools had an accident. I still got-” Kazuichi dug around in his pockets for a moment. “Uh… a hundred yen coin, and… like, some paperclips? Still got some paperclips! That’s basically half a toolbox right there, you can do all kinds of things with paperclips!”

\-------------------

“And how will you keep yourselves safe before you build your paperclip home?” Peko bounced back. “The Remnants are scattered all over the world, Kazuichi. Even considering the fact that Chiaki has somehow managed to make friends with Izuru Kamukura, I’d say our odds are greater.”

\-------------------

“We’ll figure it out! That’s what this whole Ho-” He choked on the word for a moment, the last vestiges of that Despair he’d just forced down fuzzing like static, then forcefully and deliberately managed it. “ _-Hope_ thing is about. Even when your life is nothing but stupid, unwinnable garbage, you just… like… believe that everything’s fine, and then… you might die anyway, but at least you didn’t see it coming!”

Was that right? That didn’t seem right. Kazuichi powered on anyway. “So if everybody really wants to hunt us down, b-bring it… bring it on! I’m a Remnant too, I can hold my own against you guys!”

\-------------------

Peko gave Kazuichi a deadpan expression before letting out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. How could she convince Kazuichi to come back with her? She didn’t want to have to fight him and break his trust, but she couldn’t disobey the Young Master either. Combined with the fact that Chiaki was _right there --_

Wait.

“What about Chiaki?” Peko asked, looked back up at him. “Did Chiaki agree to this plan of yours? Because the last time I checked, Chiaki was pretty determined to… _assist_ the Young Master.” 

\-------------------

“I know!” Kazuichi moaned. “I know that, but… he was gonna cut her finger off, Peko. He was gonna cut her finger off and there was nothing I could do about it! And it’s gonna keep being like that, as long as she stays with him. Not to diss your boyfr- eh, boss or anything, but he can’t freaking control himself! He’s gonna flip out one day and kill her!”

He curled his knees up, careful not to jostle Chiaki, and glared at his feet. “And I can’t… I can’t do anything. I can’t help her out. I’m just one more person she’s gotta protect, ‘cause if he finds out about me then it’s basically like she got me killed.”

\-------------------

“Kazuichi…” Peko said gently, giving him a pitying look. At least, as pitying as her face would allow. “You ran. You took Chiaki and _ran._ The Young Master already knows.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi groaned softly. “Well, that kinda just proves my point that we should run for it and not look back!”

\-------------------

“Was the plan not to…” Peko thought for a moment, trying to remember the exact wording Chiaki used. “Ditch Chiaki, if something that endangers your life were to occur? The Young Master would be extremely upset if one of you got away, but it would be in your best interest to attempt to follow that plan now, though I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t try to stop you.” (She would stop him. She’d been ordered to.)

\-------------------

 _“He was gonna cut her finger off,”_ Kazuichi repeated. “I can’t leave her alone with him. I can’t just run off and save my own skin. _You’re_ not gonna protect her. So even if I can’t do anything, even if I’m basically just a burden who’s always whining at her and making her plans harder and arguing with her and getting in her way-”

With a frustrated groan he tilted his head back sharply as if to bang it against the brickwork behind him, froze just before it made contact, made another frustrated sound, and leaned forward to bite his sleeve again. “What am I supposed to do?!” he said, his voice muffled by the jumpsuit. “I’m not good at plans, this is all I’ve got!”

\-------------------

Peko watched as Kazuichi grew more frustrated, resisting the urge to hurt himself and struggling with his… whatever this is. Peko took a deep breath and let out a long, quiet exhale before shifting and sitting down across from Kazuichi.

“Kazuichi, a lot has happened in the past two days,” she stated plainly. “The Young Master isn’t the type of person to use unnecessary violence outside of his Despair. Chiaki suggested this punishment herself, and the Young Master agreed to it. He has shown considerable restraint, considering what has happened and what Chiaki herself has confessed.”

Peko looked over at Chiaki, her expression softening a little as she watched her friend sleep, oblivious to the conversation Peko and Kazuichi were having. 

“Fuyuhiko was also planning on ensuring that Chiaki herself never fell into Despair. As much as he feels punishment is necessary for releasing Kyoko Kirigiri, the Young Master doesn’t actually wish Chiaki any harm.”

\-------------------

He’d sort of forgotten that Chiaki had volunteered the finger. Kazuichi felt stupid now. She’d probably had some kind of plan, and as usual he’d freaked out and made her derail it to protect him. Feeling frustrated and stressed out and useless, but determined to use _good, hopeful coping mechanisms_ about it, Kazuichi shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets and fidgeted with his pocket junk. Which was now… five paperclips and a coin. There were no nice, heavy, comforting tools to feel against his palms.

“Okay. I know he doesn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to hurt her either. But you and I both know that just ‘cause he _wishes_ it doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. He hasn’t ever tried to hurt her or make her Despair when he was deep under and flipping out? ‘Cause I’ll bet you he has. I’ve been here for two days and I’ve already heard him screaming from the other side of the house about that crap.”

His fingers found the Hello Kitty bandaid, which wasn’t exactly comforting but at least couldn’t bash a person’s skull in, so he fidgeted with that.

“You know how it works. When you’re Despairing really hard, all you wanna do is spread it around.”

\-------------------

Peko shrugged nonchalantly. “I haven’t personally Despaired for a couple of years now, so I can’t say I remember all that well.” 

Aside from Chiaki, Peko hadn’t really told anyone that. However, as… bothersome as he had been today, she felt as though Kazuichi had earned the right to know that. She didn’t mention keeping it a secret; if she had her way, he wouldn’t have to soon enough anyway.

“The Young Master did have a breakdown earlier today, but he doesn’t have them often.”

There had just been the fit he’d had when confronting Chiaki after she first arrived, and that moment of cackling and falling apart when he’d been shot, during the riot. And the morning after, when she’d knelt down in the hallway and he’d pulled back his arm to strike her. And today, in his office, when she’d stood and done nothing while the boy she grew up with screamed threats and slammed Chiaki again and again against a window.

...Those last three fits of Despair had happened within the span of two days. Was it just because those two days had been nonstop and stressful, or had she really missed the fact that his fits were getting that much more frequent and closer together?

\-------------------

“You and I might have different definitions of ‘often’,” Kazuichi muttered, still fidgeting. “I know not everybody’s on a constant Despair high like me, but he’s still- …back up.”

He looked up at her disbelievingly, his hands going still. “You haven’t? Not _once?”_

\-------------------

Peko blinked in confusion, wondering why they were suddenly talking about her now. “No. It was a distraction, and my fealty did not lay with Despair or Junko Enoshima. It was with the Young Master. Regardless of the video, that did not change.”

\-------------------

He worked his mouth uselessly for a moment. “…How?!”

\-------------------

“It wasn’t a priority,” she stated bluntly. “It still isn’t. And you are right about the Young Master having episodes more frequently than normal lately, though he has been under a lot of stress as of late…” Peko furrowed her brow, changing the subject back to Fuyuhiko. “Perhaps it would be prudent to suggest he take a short break.”

\-------------------

“How do you just… not prioritize it?!” said Kazuichi, refusing to let the subject be changed. “How do you ignore it? It’s _everywhere!_ It’s in… everything! How are you not _constantly thinking about it?!”_

Kazuichi leaned forward and grabbed her by the lapels of her pristine white jacket, leaving a smear of the grease that coated the insides of his pockets. “How? There’s gotta be a trick to it, right? J-just tell me how you do it!”

\-------------------

Peko wasn’t expecting to be grabbed so abruptly, Kazuichi suddenly in her personal space. She went to grab her sword out of instinct, but stopped herself before she withdrew it from the sheath. She let out a soft exhale and released her sword, seeing the desperate expression on Kazuichi’s face as he asked her what to do. 

“I…” Peko thought back; _was_ there a trick to it and she just didn’t realize it? “I just don’t think about it. I admit that when everything started I reveled in it just as much as everyone else did, but as everyone else began to destroy the world, I didn’t have time to Despair. As the Young Master ceased prioritizing his duties as Oyabun in favor of prioritizing his duties to Ultimate Despair, I, as his tool, stepped up and took on some of those responsibilities. He had a world to burn and an organization to run, and as his tool it was my duty to ensure both of those things ran as smoothly as possible. And as the more… strenuous relationships between some of the Remnants began to surface, I only saw more people to protect the Young Master from.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi’s eyes jumped to Peko’s sword as her hand twitched toward it, a stab of pathetic selfish eagerness rushing through him, which he immediately felt ashamed of when she let her hand drop. Damn it, she had to have some trick, some magic advice that could make that stop happening.

Of course there was no such thing. Peko was just better, and braver, and more responsible than him. She just didn’t Despair because it would be inconvenient for Fuyuhiko to have a bodyguard who was tripping her ass off on misery all the time. Kazuichi sighed in disappointment and let go of her jacket. “Figures.”

\-------------------

There was a soft whine from behind Kazuichi, Chiaki having fallen from Kazuichi’s shoulder onto his mid-back, her nap now fully disturbed. Her eyes fluttered open as she sat up slowly and hazily looked between Kazuichi and Peko for a moment, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “Peko…?”

\-------------------

Kazuichi gave a sudden little jolt as beside him, Chiaki began to stir. He twisted around to look at her, and immediately that forced smile returned to his face, projecting an aura of absolutely-nothing-is-wrong-right-now. “O-oh, hey, Chiaki! Peko’s here. Don’t freak out, that’s still part of the… uh, the brilliant plan that I definitely have.”

\-------------------

Chiaki looked back over at Kazuichi, before yawning while blinking and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "How long was I asleep…?"

Chiaki suddenly remembered that she was supposed to have her finger cut off; she looked down at her hand to see all of her fingers were intact, and looked up at Peko again, now very awake. Kazuichi who had been trying so hard to help her but… 

"Chiaki," Peko said her name to get her attention, wide eyes looking at her with a serious expression. 

"I know," Chiaki sighed, stretching and letting out another yawn. "Do I need to go back?"

"Both of you do," Peko said, giving Kazuichi a significant look.

Chiaki looked at Kazuichi again, leaning on his shoulder again, on purpose this time. "Thank you for saving me, Kazuichi," she said, giving his arm a short hug before sitting back up. "But I came here to help Fuyuhiko, so I can't leave. Not yet."

\-------------------

“Screw Fuyuhiko!” said Kazuichi sharply, his smile slipping. “Fuyuhiko’s a jerk and he wants your help just about as much as you want my help! Chiaki, it’s not your job to fix everybody! We could just go! We could live in a motor home, and you’d have an army of robots to fight zombies with! It would be great! You don’t have to go back! WE don’t have to go back! If we go back-”

He looked back to Peko, a little frantically. “W-what’s he gonna do to me if we go back?”

\-------------------

Peko stared at Chiaki and Kazuichi, her gaze becoming sharper for a moment. “I’m not sure, being honest. All I know is that he’s _very_ angry with you, Kazuichi.”

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Chiaki piped up determinedly, gently tugging on Kazuichi’s sleeve to get his attention. “I promise. And Fuyuhiko isn’t a jerk, he’s just… he’s mad. Lots of people do stuff they don’t want to when they’re mad ‘cause they aren’t thinking right. Right?” Chiaki looked at Peko for support, and received a curt nod in response. “And if Fuyuhiko figured out what’s going on, then we can figure things out from there. I was kind of hoping that things wouldn’t get this messy, though.”

Peko gave Chiaki a deadpan look. “It wouldn’t have if you hadn’t released Kyoko Kirigiri.”

Chiaki pouted at that. “I wasn’t going to let her get _hurt,_ Peko!” Peko let out a soft sigh, giving her a small, stiff smile. 

“I know. The Young Master does as well, but… in this case, it put a huge damper on things.”

Chiaki’s shoulders sagged a bit, and she flopped back onto Kazuichi’s shoulder. “I know.”

\-------------------

“Okay,” said Kazuichi slowly. “So he’s really mad. But like, torture mad, or murder mad? ‘Cause I think we can deal with torture mad. Torture’s not dead, y’know?” He was actually seriously pondering this. “When you think about it, torture mad’s just one step up from smacking you around mad, which is one step up from screaming mad, and screaming mad’s basically barely mad at all, right?”

Chiaki had flopped onto his shoulder again, and he absentmindedly put an arm around her. Ditching Chiaki entirely wasn’t an option. Sure, he could probably run off while she sacrificed herself to Fuyuhiko, but what kind of stupid option was that? Izuru would definitely have a problem with it. And while Kazuichi certainly feared Fuyuhiko more than Izuru, mutiny against Fuyuhiko was probably, statistically, more survivable. Depending on how mad he was right now.

“Ahrg, I don’t know. I’m really screwed no matter what we do.”

\-------------------

Chiaki thought long and hard, trying to figure out what to do next. Peko was also quiet, seeming to be lost in thought as well. Chiaki hadn’t actually planned for Fuyuhiko to find out; at least, not so quickly. It’s not that she thought Fuyuhiko wasn’t smart and that he _couldn’t_ figure it out, but she had at least hoped to have Kazuichi around for more than twenty-four hours before having to make a Keep-Kazuichi-Safe-From-A-Very-Angry-Fuyuhiko contingency plan.

Peko was the one who spoke first: “If I were the Young Master, I think the first thing I would do is keep the two of you seperate and speak with you both one-on-one.”

Chiaki looked up at Peko and blinked at that, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Why?”

“Firstly, whatever the Young Master does to Kazuichi, he will most likely not want you to see, Chiaki.” Chiaki pouted at that. “Secondly, the two of you have been around each other for an extended period of time, and your influence on Kazuichi makes him less predictable. The Young Master will want to eliminate that.”

\-------------------

“Alright!” said Kazuichi eagerly, sitting up straight and pumping a fist. “And then when I’m alone with him, I’ll kill him!”

His enthusiasm shriveled up at the girls’ stares, and he slouched back against the wall again. “Fine, geniuses, _you_ come up with a plan.”

\-------------------

Peko glowered at the mere _suggestion_ of Kazuichi attempting to harm the Young Master, and Chiaki gave Kazuichi a wide eyed stare that showed that she was very obviously not expecting that to have been Kazuichi’s plan. Luckily for the girls (or rather, for Kazuichi, since one of the girls had a sword and happened to be more than proficient with it) Kazuichi deflated and let go of that plan pretty quickly. 

“Kazuichi, we can’t kill him,” Chiaki said with a pout. “I like that you’re helping, but killing isn’t an option.” Chiaki thought for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger. 

“What if we got Fuyuhiko to talk to me first?”

“And what would that accomplish?” Peko asked, raising an eyebrow at Chiaki.

“Maybe I can convince him not to hurt Kazuichi?” she said, looking between the two of them. They both seemed a bit skeptical. “Probably.”

\-------------------

“Are we doing any lying?” Kazuichi asked nervously. “Like, is there a story we should get straight, maybe? To convince him I actually am still in Despair and this was all just a big misunderstanding? Hey, maybe you could tell him I kidnapped you, and I was gonna throw you off the building!”

\-------------------

“I think it may be more prudent to start telling this truth at this point,” Peko suggested, giving Kazuichi a deadpan look. “As I already mentioned, running off as soon as the Young Master accused you of no longer being in Despair essentially confirmed your allegiance, or lack thereof. Even if you _did_ convince him of your story, there are witnesses to contest it.”

Chiaki and Kazuichi both stared at Peko for a moment, at that. “The Young Master ordered me to use his resources to find you both. I’m not the only one under his employ; there are several of Fuyuhiko’s men watching us to make sure nothing happens. I’ve already ordered them not to use lethal force under any circumstances,” she stated, before Kazuichi could start freaking out. “But they are there, and can contest your story if asked. They won’t lie to the Young Master.”

\-------------------

“You could’ve said something sooner!” Kazuichi whined, shrugging Chiaki off and scrambling over to the edge of the fire escape on his hands and knees to peer down at the men below. Several yakuza in slick black suits were standing in the alleyway, staring back up at him.

\-------------------

Chiaki also leaned over the railing, and gave a small wave. “Hey, Okamoto. Hey, Suzuki. Hi Mori, I’m glad you didn’t get in trouble.”

“Hi, miss Nanami,” they chorused back automatically, looking a little chagrined.

“Get in trouble for what?” Peko asked Chiaki with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing!” Chiaki replied, too quickly and too flustered for it to be anything but a lie. “Nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

\-------------------

“So we basically never had an option, right?!” Kazuichi wailed.

He groaned and curled his knees up to his chest again, defeated. “Fine. You win. We’re going back.” He peeked over his knees at Peko, eyes narrow and challenging. “But if he tortures me, I’ll break, like, immediately. And I’ll tell him everything, and that means ratting YOU out too, y’know! So if you don’t want to be as screwed as the rest of us, you better make sure he keeps his hands off me!”

\-------------------

Anyone who knew Kazuichi’s constitution knew that this wasn’t an idle threat. Chiaki looked as though she was about to protest, but Peko ended up beating her to the punch with a sigh. “I intend on discussing my alignment regarding Despair with the Young Master soon,” she stated, looking at Chiaki, who was staring back at her with a surprised look on her face. 

“Are…” Chiaki started, furrowing her brows in worry before trying again. “Are you sure? Fuyuhiko is really, _really_ mad. Won’t he get mad at you too?”

Peko gave Chiaki a wry smile. “It’s not underserved anger, Chiaki. I’ve been actively lying to the Young Master for years. Even if my allegiance is with him, I still wasn’t honest with him, and he would have every right to be furious with me.”

“But --”

“My decision has already been made, Chiaki,” Peko cut her friend off softly. “I’m not changing my mind.”

\-------------------

“N-now hold on a second! You can’t just confess to him like that! That totally takes all the power out of my threat! You’ve gotta keep lying to him for my sake!”

\-------------------

Chiaki continued to stare at Peko for a moment longer. She was scared for her, and _proud_ of her. She gave her a small, encouraging smile; this was a big step in the right direction, not just for Peko, but for everyone. Probably.

“Kazuichi…” Chiaki poked his cheek and pouted for a moment. “We can’t lie to him forever. If he already suspects something, we can’t just keep lying to him. That’ll make stuff worse for all of us. Even Fuyuhiko. Especially Fuyuhiko.” She took a deep, determined breath. She’d come to this decision during the fight in Fuyuhiko’s office, and she wasn’t going to back down now. “Someone needs to start standing up and telling him he’s wrong.”

\-------------------

“Can’t get much worse for me specifically,” Kazuichi muttered. He was utterly powerless, and Fuyuhiko was _definitely_ going to torture him, but at least he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Well if he tortures me, I’ll tell him Peko has a boss/bodyguard fetish going on and she wants to smooch him all over his face. So just think about that one.”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked and Peko’s face, for the first time since she was a child, turned a _spectacular_ shade of red. "Don't insinuate-- how dare-- I do _not_ have _any_ such inclination--"

"I think it's cute!" Chiaki offered, which made Peko sputter further.

_"Chiaki!"_

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko met them out on the lawn, standing just inside the gate of his property with a few guards surrounding him and looking as though they’d been sufficiently yelled at. He crossed his arms with a cold, judgmental look as the car pulled up at the gate and Peko got out, shoving Kazuichi roughly in front of her and with Chiaki trailing demurely behind.

“Anybody have anything they wanna say to me?” he asked, his voice simmering with controlled anger.

“We, uh… we got lost on the way to the bathroom,” said Kazuichi.

Fuyuhiko uncrossed his arms and extended a casual hand toward the guard next to him. A pistol was placed into his palm, and he inspected it thoughtfully, exuding an aura of vague threat. “Hey, let’s pretend I haven’t asked yet. Anybody have anything _honest_ they wanna say to me?”

\-------------------

Peko resisted the urge to let out an irritated sigh; they had just got done talking about being honest with the Young Master and he _immediately_ went back on that the minute there was a potential threat. She was beginning to wish that Kazuichi’s backbone was a more permanent fixture, as bothersome for everyone else as that would be. 

“I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko,” Chiaki piped up from behind Peko, having the decency to look ashamed about all of this. Peko was relieved that Chiaki was aware enough to know an apology was a good place to start. “I was really out of it when we went to go to the bathroom, so I didn’t realize Kazuichi was taking me away until we were already in the city,” Peko’s face remained neutral, but she was taken by surprise; was Chiaki _also_ lying? Seriously? “I’m not saying it’s all Kazuichi’s fault; he was panicking, and people do weird stuff when they panic. I still should’ve stopped him, so… don’t be mad at him, okay?”

 _Technically_ that was the truth… Peko couldn’t exactly be mad at Chiaki for that.

\-------------------

“That’s the story we’re sticking with?” said Fuyuhiko. He waited another second or two to see if anyone else would say anything, and when Kazuichi and Chiaki kept quiet: “Alright.”

He looked around at his men, those waiting within the walls of the property and those who had gone with Peko. standing just outside the gate. “There’s somethin’ I want real public right now. Chiaki and Kazuichi are close, trusted friends of mine, and my personal guests at this house, and my fuckin’ nepotism has been more than generous with them. And today…” He cocked the pistol, showily and deliberately. “They’ve taken advantage of that trust and freedom to screw around with a prisoner of mine. And again, I was real goddamn gracious about letting them off easy for it, and they still tried to fuckin’ run. My patience, and it has been a _monumental shitload_ of patience, is _gone._ ”

Fuyuhiko leveled his gaze at Chiaki. “Chiaki, my men are gonna take you to your room. And they’re gonna lock you in there, and you’re not coming out again until I’ve decided exactly how you’re gonna make all this up to me. Not sure your finger’s gonna pay back that debt. I will take my sweet fuckin’ time with that, so get real comfortable.”

“That’s… actually not so bad,” Kazuichi muttered to her, sounding surprised. “That’s like… timeout. He’s putting you in timeout.”

\-------------------

Chiaki paled at the idea of Fuyuhiko doing something worse to her than cutting off her finger, but Kazuichi wasn’t technically wrong. For now, anyway, Fuyuhiko was essentially just making a public deal about sending her to her room and grounding her. She’d had worse punishments growing up with her parents than what Fuyuhiko was suggesting right now. 

“Probably?” Chiaki said, nervous gaze never leaving Fuyuhiko as he casually fiddled with the pistol in his hands. 

\-------------------

“Peko,” said Fuyuhiko, calmly. “Take Kazuichi to one of the basement cells. We’ll deal with him first.”

“S-still not so bad,” Kazuichi whispered. “That could still be way worse, right? Basement’s not the torture room. Nobody’s even said the word torture yet!”

“Oh, right, thanks for reminding me,” Fuyuhiko said, and he raised the pistol and shot him.


	12. The Nightmare Scenario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Peko was played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko was played by RedPen.

The bullet went through Kazuichi’s foot, and his eyes widened, more in shock than in pain, as he stared down at the blood rapidly spreading across his shoe. “Oh, shit,” he said, and _then_ the pain hit him, sharp and sudden and overwhelming, a fire racing up his leg, static racing through his brain, agony and ecstasy and agony and _ecstasy_.

\-------------------

Chiaki screamed -- actually _screamed_ , something that Peko hadn’t heard since _the maze_ \-- as soon as the gun went off. She seemed to be moving on instinct alone, practically shoving Peko out of her way, trying to catch Kazuichi before he crumpled to the ground. “Hey, hey, Kazuichi, it’s -- wait, don’t--!” She was trying to soothe him and examine his foot when she was pulled off by the Young Master’s men, causing her to swat at them and struggle until one of the men eventually had to physically lift her off of the ground, to prevent her from getting to Kazuichi. 

“Let me _go!”_ Chiaki screamed as the man held her by the waist, beating at his arms and hands with a closed fist. He eventually dropped her, but as soon as she was down someone else was on her, hoisting her up like a child and throwing her over their shoulder. A couple more men came close, spotting the man as Chiaki flailed and kicked and screamed (and _screamed_ ). Peko watched as Chiaki fought all the way into the house, demanding to be let go, clawing and scratching in fury and fear. 

Peko noticed, silently, that Chiaki never once said anything to the Young Master. None of the anger, hostility, or panic was ever directed at him. She couldn’t help but commend Chiaki for her self-control, in that regard at least. Everything else seemed to have gone out the window, once Kazuichi was hurt.

“Don’t hurt him!” Chiaki begged as the doors closed behind her, her feet kicking. “Let me go! Please!” she sobbed, the guard’s grip like a vice around her waist as she flailed and kicked and hit. _“Kazuichi!”_

The doors closed resolutely behind the guards, and Chiaki’s continued shouting and struggling could be heard from the other side, but muffled enough to where no one else could understand what she was saying anymore. Peko looked down at her comrade (her friend? She wasn’t sure.) as he struggled on the ground, and suddenly felt a pang of pity for him. However, this situation was more delicate than Peko had feared it would be.

“Shall I carry him, Young Master?” she asked, her voice carefully monotone, her face frozen in a neutral expression in a sign of both familiarity and fealty.

\-------------------

“Drag him if you have to,” Fuyuhiko spat. “We’re dealing with this right the fuck now.”

Without waiting to see if she’d follow orders, he turned sharply and began walking back towards the house, Chiaki’s frantic screaming echoing in the distance. “The rest of you are dismissed,” he called out to the men around him, tossing the gun to one of them at random. “And somebody clean the idiot’s blood off my lawn.”

\-------------------

Peko gave a sharp nod and bent down to gather Kazuichi off of the ground. Kazuichi seemed to be more focused on the pain than literally anything else, twitching and wailing, so it took a bit of finagling, but she was eventually able to throw him over her shoulder and fireman carry him across the yard and into the house. 

He wouldn’t be difficult to carry for much longer. Kazuichi’s main source of Despair was pain, and he Despaired the most easily out of all of them. In seconds it would be rolling over him: an intoxicating, soothing high that wouldn’t numb the pain, but would turn it into pleasure. His screaming would melt into giggling, and his muscles would go limp in her grip.

Chiaki was going to be devastated.

Peko could still hear Chiaki’s voice, muffled by distance and a bedroom door, but loud and terrified -- not for herself, but for her friend whom she swore to protect. Peko could sympathize with her; if their positions were reversed in any way, Peko would be doing her damndest to get back to the Young Master. She knew that Chiaki would eventually tire out; she was already exhausted from earlier, and she hadn’t been given much of a break. For now, though, she did not pity the guards that were forced to watch over her to prevent her escape.

Peko followed the Young Master with Kazuichi over her shoulder, blood from his foot seeping into her white suit as he continued to writhe and sob and scream. When they arrived in the basement cells, would she be asked to give a report? The Young Master was hard to predict; it was a good quality in the head of the Yakuza, but woefully difficult to navigate when one needed to confess what could be considered a grievous sin. If so, it would be the perfect time to confess; it’s not as if Kazuichi didn’t already know everything, and outside of a meeting in his office, it would be the most privacy she could get with the Young Master. 

They arrived at the basement cell that was to be Kazuichi’s, and Peko gently (or at least, as gently as she could without immediately rousing suspicion) put Kazuichi down on a rickety, obviously untrustworthy chair. She would have put him on the bed, but what the Young Master was intending on doing most likely didn’t come with such comforts -- at least, not right away.

(At the back of her mind, she registered that Kazuichi _still_ hadn’t gone limp.)

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko closed the door behind them. No need to lock it. Kazuichi wouldn’t be making a run for it any time soon. He sat down on the bare, bloodstained mattress of the room’s tiny bed, and rested his chin in his hands, watching as Peko made an effort to keep a screaming, sobbing Kazuichi upright in the chair when he seemed very dead set on not remaining that way.

“I know you’re probably thinking Chiaki got off easy,” he said to her. “Not that I expect _you_ to question my methods, but you’re thinking the men might, right?” A slow smirk, as he watched Kazuichi continue to bleed profusely and did absolutely nothing about it. “See, once I had some time to think about it, I realized losing a finger wasn’t much of a punishment. She was ready for it. Hell, she suggested it. The fuckin’ finger meant nothing to her.” He really did respect her for that. In another time, in another world, he probably could have made a decent yakuza out of her.

“Nah, this is more of a punishment.” He nodded his head casually toward Kazuichi. “Not even a _punishment,_ really, just a reminder that her choices have consequences. She chose Kyoko over Kazuichi. Hope she thinks it was worth it.”

\-------------------

Peko listened as the Young Master explained himself to her; he was surprisingly relaxed and pleased with the solution that he'd come up with for punishing Chiaki. And thinking about it, the idea was a sound one. Chiaki became quite upset when he threatened or insulted Kazuichi, or even Peko herself. The logical conclusion would be to use those she cared about as an example, rather than harm her directly. Her immediate reaction to Kazuichi being shot proved his theory correct, as well.

However, Peko was surprised that the Young Master had decided to explain himself to her at all. As he had stated earlier, he certainly didn't need to.

Suddenly, with the Young Master sitting on a dingy bed in a prison cell, Kazuichi screaming and bleeding beside her, Peko realized this was her chance to talk. 

Peko stopped fussing over Kazuichi, letting him fall off the chair and curl into himself and wail as she stood straight and walked so that she was standing in front of the Young Master directly. She kneeled down in a seiza and removed her sword from her back, placing it at her side. She wouldn't need it for this.

"Oyabun," she stated, calling the Young Master by his official title in a rare show of extreme formality. Hopefully, that alone would stress the issue, but Peko continued on: "I wish to speak freely regarding a matter of great importance. May I proceed?"

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko was taken by surprise at the sudden formality. Peko’s expression had gone very, very serious.

His first instinct was that it had something to do with Despair. Chiaki announcing she could cure it, Kazuichi seeming to have actually fallen out of it… well, that one was gonna require some more experimentation. He remembered his conversation with Peko in the early hours of the morning, ordering her to at least _pretend_ to be falling out of Despair around Chiaki. He also remembered his own bizarre unwillingness to cut off her finger, even while standing over her with a knife in his hand. Hell, there was the very fact that he hadn’t killed her in the beginning. Something in him tensed slightly, at the worry that Peko was about to call out his recent behavior. He could explain it all away. It was a long string of decisions that had made perfect sense in the moment. Still, the idea of being accused of the very same thing he was accusing Kazuichi of made him… uncomfortable.

But it had been a very hectic two days. There were any number of things Peko might want to talk about. “Go ahead,” he said, crossing his arms and sitting back slightly. They had a while before Kazuichi’s bleeding reached a life threatening point of no return. Fuyuhiko had every intention of letting him suffer through it for as long as possible.

\-------------------

Peko bowed her head in gratitude at the Young Master’s permission. "Thank you."

She straightened herself, looking up at him. His eye was on her, waiting for her to begin, and it was never a good idea to waste his time. "It has come to my attention that I may have been performing under false pretenses for you, Oyabun." She looked down, actual guilt for her lie. "But you've brought certain issues to light today, while... _handling_ Chiaki and Kazuichi, and these concerns have led me to believe I have made a grave misunderstanding."

Peko looked back up at the Young Master, her gaze intense. "Master, I am not in Despair. I haven't been for several years. The day we… _lost_ Chiaki was both the first and last time I gave myself to it, and I have not needed it for several years now."

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko’s hands tightened on his sleeves. His first reaction was confusion. Peko, not in Despair? Fury. Peko, _lying_ to him about being in Despair. No, she hadn’t been lying. She said herself that she hadn’t realized, hadn’t given it any thought until the situation with Chiaki made her confront it. Chiaki’s fault, not Peko’s. Chiaki had been alone with her far too often, babbled about her goddamn Hope, filled Peko’s head with weird ideas, made her question her loyalties.

He’d been too wrapped up in the implications of losing Kazuichi to this. He hadn’t even _considered_ losing Peko. He’d trusted too completely that she’d always be on his side. Anger turned to terror. Peko, an enemy. Peko working against him. Peko, betraying him to the Future Foundation, standing idly by while they killed him. Terror to grief. He wanted to reach out and grab her, hold her in his arms, crush her body against his so that she could never, _ever leave_ him. Not Peko.

All this flashed through his head in a second, a whirlwind of emotion that he hoped didn’t show on his face. Fuyuhiko stared at her, his face unreadable.

“Bullshit.”

\-------------------

"I would not lie to you," Peko stated plainly. "Not about this. The truth has been avoided too much. I refuse to betray your trust in the way Kazuichi has.” She steeled herself, bracing for his anger, and reiterated, “Despair is not a source of enjoyment for me; it is simply a distraction from what is important."

Everything she had done up until now was for _him_ , even the things she’d done behind his back. She might be throwing it all away to clear her conscience right now, but he would give Peko her due punishment for it. She wasn’t sure what it would be, but she was certain it wouldn’t be a simple strike across the face. It would… it could…

Suddenly, she realized why Kauzichi was so frightened all the time about this very scenario -- this may very well result in her death. 

But she’d rather die than continue to marr the Young Master’s reputation with anyone. She was _his,_ first and foremost. Hope or Despair didn’t matter, as long as he was alive and well.

And she was beginning to realize that Despair did not make him _well._

\-------------------

There was a tense moment, and then Fuyuhiko’s body relaxed slowly. “I don’t think you’re lying. I just think it’s bullshit. Chiaki’s gotten into your head and it’s freaking you out.”

He leaned forward, wanting to put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her, but resisting the urge. They were master and tool. Even now, there were boundaries. “Peko, you _are_ in Despair. You haven’t fallen out of it just ‘cause you’re my life’s fuckin’ _designated driver._ What, you think you’re not just ‘cause you haven’t gotten high off it in a while?”

He gave her an encouraging smile. (He assumed it was encouraging, he was a little out of practice at any type of smile besides threatening.) “That’s what’s bullshit. You can’t compare yourself to Kazuichi. Half his life is a Despair high; he craves it like a fuckin’ addict. That’s not all of us. The high’s just a bonus, it’s not the _point._ Hell, half of us try to avoid it; it gets in the way of our plans when we just lose all our fuckin’ inhibitions. I know Sonia keeps it to carefully controlled doses, she’s got a better handle on it than even I do. If you don’t get cravings for it… that’s fine, that doesn’t mean anything. You’re just goddamn Peko Pekoyama, the most fucking dutiful, responsible person on the face of the planet.”

\-------------------

Peko processed this for a moment, taking in the information the Young Master had given her. She let this information sink in slowly.

(She did not blush when he complimented her. If anything, _Kazuichi_ was the one giving people weird ideas.)

"That… isn’t all of it,” Peko said, choosing her words carefully, because this next admission was perhaps the more dangerous one. “I am, and always have been, a tool for your use, Young Master. Since before all of this began. While you and our classmates decided that your fealty lay with Junko Enoshima," -- she stated the name so plainly, as if the Young Master and her other classmates did not worship the girl like a god -- "mine never moved. It was with you, as it had always been. I have _never_ worshipped Junko Enoshima.”

\-------------------

_Her_ eye itched suddenly. Burned beneath his eyepatch at the blasphemy. He swallowed down that sudden, knee-jerk reaction of rage. No, this was fine, this was still fine.

“You don’t… you don’t have to worship Her,” he said. “You don’t have to care about Her at all, not if that’s not what you’re in it for. Hell, Nagito hates Her guts, and he’s probably the most effective out of all of us. If you’re in it for me…” A weak, relieved laugh. “I mean, of course you’re in it for me. You’re my tool, and you wouldn’t betray me for anything, even for Her. It’s like how Gundam would never hurt an animal. That’s just how you are.”

He pointed to Kazuichi, then to his own temple. “Your brain’s still wired like his. It’s still wired like mine. Despair’s different for all of us, but you saw the video. You don’t have to freak out, Peko. You’re still one of us. You haven’t been faking anything.”

\-------------------

Peko made a face when compared to Nagito. It was infinitesimal, but if you were looking for it, you'd see it.

"Young Master…" she said, her brows furrowed. "I believe I understand what you are saying, but… I am still unsure. There are many things we do for the Kuzuryuu clan that are necessary, but I am unsure where the line is drawn. If I am still wired to crave Despair, why do I not revel in it when given the opportunity? Why is it that when harm comes to me when --" She stopped, the words caught in her throat. She inhaled slowly, before continuing. "Why do I not experience Despair when I am punished? One would think the shame of my incompetence would bring it about? Why do the things that hurt me bring me grief instead of joy? Why do I feel guilty about the possibility of hurting you instead of euphoric? Have I misunderstood that much?"

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko stood up, swinging his arms out in a frustrated gesture. “That’s what I’m saying! Of course you’ve fuckin’ misunderstood! You’ve just… I dunno, you’ve been so focused on MY shit that you’ve never had a chance to figure yours out! Maybe getting hurt doesn’t get you off! Maybe it’s something else, and you’ve just been stuck as my bodyguard for so long that you never had the opportunity to go out and find it! It doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you!”

He was shouting by the end, trying to convince himself as much as her. _She doesn’t worship Her, she doesn’t crave Despair. She never revels in it, she never gets high off it, she picks the responsible thing every damn time. She hates the idea of hurting me, and she doesn’t like being hurt._

(His brain stuttered out, for a moment; horror and white noise. _She doesn’t like being hurt?_ Despair welled up and drowned out the thought.)

_Maybe one or two of those things wouldn’t be a problem, but when it’s everything put together? No, it’s okay, she’s FINE._

He was clenching his fists, staring at Peko without really seeing her, the cold, tarry despondency of Despair sitting heavy in his gut. “You’re _fine_ , Peko. Don’t talk to me about this shit again. That’s an order.”

\-------------------

Peko blinked, her eyebrows raised in a momentary show of shock. She had expected this conversation to be brief, but she had also expected it to end… well, perhaps a bit differently than this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in her chest, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was -- disappointment. She was _disappointed_ that the Young Master wouldn’t talk about this with her. He had just simply told her she was wrong and to not discuss it. And… for some strange reason, it _hurt_. More than any blow or insult he could lob at her, any degrading notions of being subhuman and his possession.

Whatever this was, it must have shown on her face for once, because the Young Master was still staring at her. Once she realized that, she quickly schooled her expression into her usual neutral resting face and bowed her neck once more. “There is another matter which I wish to speak of with you Young Master, if I may continue to speak freely.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko glanced over at Kazuichi, whose screaming had faded to a sort of very loud whining sound with occasional pauses for air. Why the hell hadn’t he Despaired yet? Usually he got high at the slightest hint of pain, but he’d been lying there wailing for almost ten minutes now, even though giving in to Despair would have made the suffering stop immediately.

_Holy shit,_ thought something at the back of Fuyuhiko’s mind. _What the hell did Chiaki do to him?_ The thought was quiet, and worried, and laced with something that felt too much like fear. He shook his head and dispelled it. Kazuichi _would_ Despair. The pain would drag him under eventually; he couldn’t fight off the high forever.

Based on the amount of blood Kazuichi had lost so far… yeah, they still had time to chat before he completely bled out. He looked back at Peko with a stern frown. “Better be a _different_ matter.”

\-------------------

Peko thought about her words carefully, trying her best to not offend the Young Master. “I am… concerned, Young Master.” There was a pregnant pause, and Peko gathered the strength to complete her thought. “About you.”

\-------------------

“I’m fine,” Fuyuhiko stated shortly. “Sure it’s been a couple days without sleep, and yeah, I got shot, but I’ve survived worse. If it made me sick or something I’d tell you.”

He walked over and nudged at Kazuichi with a foot, experimentally. The whining warbled a bit.

“That’s not what you’re talking about, though, is it?”

\-------------------

Peko stood as the Young Master moved away from her, watching unflinchingly as the Young Master kicked at Kazuichi’s injured foot. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done much worse to complete strangers over the last couple of days. 

“No, it isn’t. Young Master, I have…” She paused again, thinking about how to phrase what needed to be said. “I have noticed that in my diligence to ensure your safety and happiness, that I have neglected your… emotional wellbeing.” She thought for a moment longer before continuing. “Until recently, I was willing to allow this because it seemed like this is what you wished for yourself, and it was not my place to stop you. However, as your…” She thought back on how the Young Master worded it -- “your life’s designated driver, I feel it may be prudent to express these concerns before they get out of hand.”

\-------------------

“It _is_ what I wish for myself, and your concerns have been fuckin’ noted,” Fuyuhiko said coldly, still examining Kazuichi.

\-------------------

“Is this what you wish for the clan, as well?” Peko asked, noticing his demeanor change and acting accordingly. “You are their Oyabun. The clan looks to you for guidance and courage, and though I am in no place to question your decisions regarding how the clan operates, I am starting to see a…” Peko paused here, once again taking the time to figure out how to phrase things. One wrong word or misspoken phrase, and it could end in a culling. Peko didn’t want that. “I am starting to notice a certain lack of morale among some of the men. It’s not consistent enough to be considered a true concern yet, but I’m worried if something isn’t done soon, it might.”

\-------------------

“You’re saying the clan’s discipline has gone to shit,” said Fuyuhiko, far more bluntly. He remembered their conversation in the hallway, in the early hours of the morning, about Chiaki’s missing guards. “You’re saying that’s _my_ fault.”

\-------------------

Peko bristled at the accusation of pinning the blame on the Young Master, but… he wasn’t incorrect. 

It wasn’t just about Chiaki’s missing bodyguards. It was about the streets of Nishi-Shinjuku being filled to the brim with rioters when they were supposed to be cleared by the Kuzuryu clan’s men. It was about the man assigned to roughing up Kyoko in the torture room, abandoning his post for so long that Chiaki could escape with Kyoko. It was about the guards around the property getting increasingly lax in their patrols, to the point where Kazuichi had been _sleeping in their topiaries_ for who knows how long. It was about those same patrols making a sloppy, inefficient search when the manhunt was called on Kyoko, allowing her to slip past them and away into the city. It was about Chiaki managing to sneak into the house in the first place.

Peko was doing her best to hold everything together on her own, but the clan’s discipline, as the Young Master so eloquently put it, had gone to shit.

“I…” Peko wasn’t sure what to say. There was another long, agonizing moment of silence, as if the Young Master was daring her to say or do anything. She’d essentially trapped herself here; if she agreed, then she was accusing the Young Master of self-ruination, which she did not have the right to do as a tool in his use. If she disagreed, then she’d be lying in a very obvious way, and the entire point of this conversation was to _end_ the cycle of hiding behind deceit. 

“The clan’s discipline can be improved on,” she said slowly, deciding that if the Young Master was going to punish her anyway, it may as well not be for something as self-preserving and stupid as getting caught in a lie. “But due to the current position we are in, certain choices may need to be made for the good of the clan in order for that to happen.”

\-------------------

The eye itched again, insistently. Need prickled at Fuyuhiko’s brain, another kind of itch, an urge to reach out and smack her. He didn’t act on it. ( _She doesn’t like being hurt._ )

“You gonna keep beating around the bush for twenty minutes like a goddamn politician, or are you just gonna come out and say it?” he said instead, his teeth gritted. “You’re running the Kuzuryu Clan into the ground, Fuyuhiko. You’re a shit oyabun. Is that what you’re trying to say to me? Am I being criticized by a fuckin’ _object_ right now?”

\-------------------

Peko tensed at the abrupt reminder that she was not the Young Master’s equal in this conversation. An object -- _his_ object, a tool for his use. A sword didn’t have an opinion with which it could critique it’s wielder’s technique, so too must she handle her own opinions. 

Ergo, Peko Pekoyama was not to have opinions of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. 

“I apologize,” Peko said, bowing sharply. “I spoke out of turn.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko relaxed a little, and looked away at one of the barren walls of the basement cell. “Damn right,” he said. He should punish her for that, but- ( _She doesn’t like being hurt._ ) -she’d apologized quickly, so he could let it slide.

He continued staring away from her, looking at the wall without seeing it, waiting for that itch in his brain to subside. Once again, he didn’t owe her any kind of explanation. She had no right to question him. As his tool, she shouldn’t even have the agency. He found himself giving her one anyway. “I know you’re just saying that because you’re worried. A lot of shit’s gone down, recently. Things have been tense. But discipline’s not gonna slip any farther. I’ll make sure of that.”

\-------------------

Peko was tense for another moment, and remained bowed anyway, just in case this was some sort of test. There was a small lull in the conversation, before she decided to take the risk and respond.

“Of course,” she said cautiously. She slowly, slowly straightened her spine out of the bow, moving as though the Young Master were an angry, defensive animal. It was a relief to hear that he was taking _this_ seriously at least, even as upset as he was. “No one would expect any less of you, Master.”

\-------------------

“Nagito’s working on it,” he said, still looking away, more a continuation of what he’d been saying than a response to her. “Collaborating on some cutting-edge tech shit with some kid from the Towa Group. Something to do with brainwaves, radio signals, some kinda mind control bullshit. Still in development right now, apparently, but he tells me that once they work the bugs out, it’ll be a neat little helmet we can just jam onto everyone’s heads. Long as the Kuzuryu Clan holds together for that long, we’re not gonna have a problem with discipline anymore.”

\-------------------

Peko’s eyes grew wide as the Young Master described the plan, all thoughts of _cannot_ and _object_ flying out the window and into the abyss. Mind control? He was going to resort to mind control to resolve this issue?! 

Peko could see the appeal in not having to worry about fealty; even Sonia’s spies would have to listen to what the Young Master said, with this option. However, the idea of watching the entire clan become mindless, brainwashed helmet men turned her stomach in the most awful way. The clan was _family,_ you don’t just brainwash your family into doing whatever you want because they won’t listen otherwise. That’s not how family works, and brainwashing, while being what drove the Young Master into his supposedly blissful Despair, should NOT be on the table when considering the Yakuza he’d worked so hard to raise. And it wasn’t as though discipline was unheard of; hell, he’d tried to discipline Chiaki earlier today!

Except… except he’d driven the clan into the ground. He _wasn’t_ disciplining them; he was disciplining _Peko,_ for any and all infractions, regardless of fault, because of his Despair. Why would anyone ever listen to the oyabun when Peko would just take the heat if they were able to successfully run and hide?

Peko’s chest hurt; she couldn’t speak out now. She couldn’t defend her family, she’d _just_ been warned about speaking out of turn not even five minutes ago, and the Young Master was _very_ willing to punish her, if not anyone else. Something in her stomach twisted -- all of the hard work she’d put in to save him from a fall from grace, all the cold glances and controlled expressions while all he intended to do in the end was press a button…

It was no wonder that there was no respect from the clan anymore. They looked to their Oyabun, and discovered that he no longer cared for them. They were only acting in kind. 

Fuyuhiko had abandoned his family.

\-------------------

“You see?” he said, looking back at her at last, grinning coldly, as far as possible from that smile she remembered. “No reason for a tool to worry. I’ve got it handled. It’s all gonna turn out fine.”

\-------------------

“I…” Peko stared for another moment, before something strong and heavy settled in her chest. Her mind was whirling with emotions that she wasn’t sure what to do with; she’d never felt this way before. At least, not so strongly. The feeling dressed her down and sent her logic spinning, a protective urge not _for_ Fuyuhiko, but _against_ him, protecting the only family she’d known from the person she cared for most.

But… could she even act on those feelings? Peko was his; Fuyuhiko’s tool to use and weapon to wield. A possession didn’t have opinions on these matters. Objects don’t ask questions.

However, she wasn’t just his weapon -- wasn’t she also a member of the Kuzuryu Clan? The clan was everything to Peko. It had taught her discipline and loyalty, it had taken her in and given her purpose when the world had abandoned her and thrown her away. To watch Fuyuhiko break it...

What would be the betrayal: obeying her Master, or saving her clan? Both were important. Both were her duty. Would getting Fuyuhiko out of Despair even _solve_ this issue?

(Was Fuyuhiko even there anymore, a fatalistic thought whispered in the back of her mind. Who was it really, behind the eye she could see? Was it _really_ Fuyuhiko, or was it all just the Despair she’d come to despise in him so much? Was it worth it to even bother trying to find out, considering that this all stemmed from Peko not stepping in sooner?)

“I understand,” Peko said, bowing again; not as formally, and suddenly not understanding _anything_ anymore. “Thank you for taking the time to explain this to me.” In the end, she hadn’t spoken out against him. She chose not to choose, and that weight settled further in her chest.

There was another pause, unsettling and dark. Peko stood back to her full height, while averting her eyes in thought. 

“Master,” she started, her thoughts turning. “May I ask you one final question?”

\-------------------

“Doing a lot of thinking for ourselves today, aren’t we, Peko,” Fuyuhiko growled. It wasn’t a no.

\-------------------

If it wasn’t an immediate no, then it was a tentative yes. Peko took it and ran. 

She took another moment to arrange her words. It was an obvious question, all things considered, but still not one to be asked lightly given everything that has happened in the past few days. Given the nature of their conversation, it seemed now was the best time to ask; it wasn’t as though Peko would get another opportunity to discuss this without repercussions.

“If this life is what you wish for yourself and for this clan, then why is Chiaki still here?”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko froze, his mind going blank.

Why was Chiaki still here? For nostalgia, obviously. Because they’d had good times together as classmates. Because she was an old friend he’d thought he would never see again. Because the idea of her out there, roaming the shithole of a world he’d created, horrified him. Because the idea of killing her didn’t _beckon_ the way Despair was supposed to. Because she looked at him and saw a classmate, not a global terrorist. Because he’d said _“why the fuck aren’t you afraid of me?”_ and she’d cocked her head to the side in confusion and said _“do you want me to be?”_ Because there was a tiny shred of his old life hidden somewhere in him, fighting tooth and nail to reach the surface, and killing Chiaki would kill it.

“Because I’m weak,” he said aloud, not meeting her eyes.

\-------------------

Peko narrowed her eyes at his confession, confusion evident on her face. “Young Master?”

\-------------------

“What, you think I’d lie about it? What the hell do I have to hide from _you_?” Fuyuhiko grimaced. “If I told you to go kill Chiaki right now, you’d do it, right?”

\-------------------

Peko tensed slightly at the proposition. This might be the point where she found out, once and for all, if she was capable of disobeying.

“Is that what you want me to do, Young Master?”

\-------------------

“No,” said Fuyuhiko. “You’d do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t even have to bloody my own hands. And I still can’t even ask you.”

He kicked Kazuichi again, harder, eliciting a pained wail. “I’m _weak._ ”

\-------------------

Peko remained confused, and allowed the emotion to show on her face for a moment for once. “My apologies, Young Master, but… I don’t understand.”

\-------------------

“I don’t want to kill her,” said Fuyuhiko. “I don’t have the fuckin’ guts to end her like I’m supposed to. Back in the torture room, earlier, when I was holding the knife… I couldn’t even move my hand to cut off her finger. Not even kill her, just cut off her fuckin’ _finger._ What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?”

Sometimes, lately, it felt like there was a parasite living inside his skin. Watching from behind his eyes, weak and cringing and pathetic. He was ashamed of it. Ashamed of its fear, ashamed of those brief moments when it took control. No matter how determined he was to seize it, to crush and kill that pathetic thing and drown its remains in the thick tar of his Despair, it always slipped from his grasp and writhed away to some hidden place in the back of his brain.

“If the other Remnants found out,” he said, his voice full of frustration, “Not a useless bastard like Kazuichi, but the actual important people… I’m screwed, right? Because she’s trying to fuckin’ cure everybody’s Despair, and I keep just standing by and letting her. I don’t have any answer except that I’m weak. I keep wanting to think of her as one of us, like if she’s just another Remnant that fixes it. But she’s not, and I’m… weak.”

\-------------------

Peko thought about this for a moment, before deciding to simply ask: "Young Master, may I be blunt with you?"

\-------------------

“That’d be a fuckin’ change of pace,” he said sarcastically.

\-------------------

Peko nodded, and continued on: "I don't think your decision not to harm Chiaki is a sign of weakness. I believe it is a sign of strength. In the face of your men, and even a fellow Remnant --" She gestured to a snivelling Kazuichi. He wasn’t the _greatest_ example, but her point still stood. " -- you made a vow to not put Chiaki into harm's way, and you kept it. You showed true loyalty and fairness, and held a considerable amount of restraint, even while in the midst of Despair. The only time Chiaki was at risk of being injured was either due to unforeseen circumstances or due to the consequences of her own actions. You _protected_ her. And, if I may continue being blunt with you Young Master, Chiaki may not be in Despair, but she is one of us." Peko gave Fuyuhiko a smile -- it was small, and soft, and gentle looking. All surprising features coming from Peko.

(Because _of course_ he was still in there.)

"You have never been one to buckle under the heel of another, Young Master. It doesn't matter what the others think. What matters is what _you_ want."

_Or rather, what you actually want,_ she did not say. _And not what Despair has given you._

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko was silent for a while. _Strength, huh?_

Finally, he said, “Right now I want you to get Kazuichi some first aid before he bleeds out. I put too much effort into that big theatrical confrontation for him to just die on the fuckin’ floor.”

\-------------------

Peko looked at Kazuichi and made a point to grimace at the man's haggard appearance before schooling her expression again. Kazuichi was worse off than she'd thought, and he _still_ hadn’t Despaired.

"Right away, Young Master." Peko stood up, gathered her sword, and quickly exited the room to grab a first aid kit from the guard station, along with a rag, hand sanitizer, and rubbing alcohol. It wasn't perfect, but for a rush job to prevent infection and bleeding out, it would do.

Peko couldn't help feeling strange, conflicting emotions. Elation, at the fact that Fuyuhiko was still there in some capacity, refusing to cross lines that couldn’t be uncrossed. Frustration, at the fact that she’d been coldly and sharply turned away when discussing her own confusion and guilt at her betrayal. Anger… no, _fury_ at the idea of the clan being brainwashed for the purposes of Despair and blind obedience. 

She gathered the things she needed. Her swirl of emotions would have to be further examined at a later time. For now, Kazuichi needed to be tended to, otherwise he would be very much dead on the fuckin’ floor.

\-------------------

By the time Peko returned, Fuyuhiko was already squatting down next to Kazuichi, and had pried off his bloodsoaked tennis shoe. The bullet had gone clean through Kazuichi’s foot and gotten lodged in the rubber of it. Fuyuhiko was using Kazuichi’s own sock to apply pressure to the wound. Not exactly sanitary, but screw it, at least it wasn’t covered in spit. He was not taking care to be particularly gentle about it.

“You gigantic baby,” he was muttering to Kazuichi as Peko came back into the room. “That pistol calibre was _tiny._ Stop being such a fuckin’ drama queen.”

\-------------------

Peko kneeled back down onto the ground next to Kazuichi and the Young Master, quickly and efficiently cleaning off Kazuichi’s wound -- which caused a lot of noise and flinching and a kick in the shoulder from his good foot, which only made things worse for him, honestly. After _finally_ getting him to sit still, she wrapped his foot in the bandages, setting the dirty rag and sock in a pile next to her. 

“It’s done, Kazuichi,” she said, grabbing the hand sanitizer and using it liberally on her hands -- she would wash her hands properly later, but at least she’d prevented herself from being a complete biohazard for now. “You’ll be alright.”

\-------------------

“That’s what you get for mutiny,” said Fuyuhiko, with zero sympathy. “You ready to talk about that, or do you want to scream some more?”

Kazuichi curled himself up into an obstinate little ball and continued making his whining sounds.

“Gotcha. Well, we’re not giving you pain meds.” Fuyuhiko leaned over him, looking smug. “You want it to stop hurting, you know _exactly_ how to make that happen. So when you’re done pretending you’re not in Despair, you let me know.”

He got to his feet, Kazuichi’s blood staining his expensive shoes and the hem of his pants. “Come on, we’ll let him stew in it for an hour or two and check in on him later.” What he really wanted to do right now was check in on Chiaki, but he was going to resist doing that. Chiaki also needed some time to stew.


	13. A Poorly Planned Escape Two: Electric Boogaloo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki was played by Blueflame91, and Kazuichi, Fuyuhiko and Okamoto the guard were played by RedPen.

Chiaki had given up on getting out through the bedroom door. This was a recent decision, after having screamed her voice hoarse trying to get someone to let her out, and probably bruised her feet and shoulders trying to get the door to budge after _that_ didn’t work. She paced back and forth throughout her bedroom, absolutely exhausted but unable to settle.

She had _promised_ Kazuichi she’d be there for him. Fuyuhiko was mad, but it wasn’t fair for him to take his anger with _her_ out on Kazuichi. Also, literally _no one_ deserved to be shot in the foot. Where did Fuyuhiko even get a gun? Weren’t those outlawed in Japan?

(When the panic faded later, Chiaki would be cognizant enough to remember that Fuyuhiko was the Ultimate _Yakuza_ and would feel silly about this line of questioning. She would also realize that Kazuichi licking her hand and running away with her in tow was something that had very publicly and irreversibly announced where his loyalties lay -- and that wasn’t with the Remnants of Despair anymore. It wasn’t just her Fuyuhiko was mad at.)

She circled the room, trying to figure out what to do next -- she couldn’t leave through the door, but what other options were there? It’s not like--

Chiaki was suddenly struck with an idea.

_The window._

She looked back up at the door, listening quietly for any sign of the guards checking in. She bit her lip and quickly made an updated version of the plan they used to help Kyoko get out: Chiaki stripped out of her jacket, grabbing some spare pillows and stuffing them inside and around it. She then pulled the duvet over the entire setup, leaving the kitty ears sticking out of the pulled up hood. She turned on her GameGirl and let the soundfont music play to let the guards think she was occupied. There. Now anybody who peeked into her room would see her sulking in bed and playing videogames, like a chastised and cooperative little prisoner.

Chiaki crawled under her bed and pulled out the makeshift blanket rope she hadn’t bothered untying from Kyoko’s escape earlier. She’d known at the time leaving it like that would only make Fuyuhiko more likely to figure things out, but Chiaki had figured he was going to know who let Kyoko go anyway, and she had been emotionally exhausted even then. Now it was a blessing in disguise. She didn’t have to waste time tying a bunch of sheets together while Kazuichi was maybe bleeding to death. 

She quietly opened the bedroom window and peeked out of it; she didn’t see any guards below her window or in this part of the yard, but that didn’t mean that wouldn’t change. She quickly threw the rope out of the window, climbed over the window ledge and slid down the rope. It was a little scary at first -- Chiaki wasn’t exactly comfortable with heights and the risk of falling anymore -- but she made it down quickly enough and hid behind a topiary that had somehow managed to survive the Soda-pocalypse. 

Chiaki knew it would only be a matter of time before they found out she was missing. She just had to get to Kazuichi before then. (She had no plan for what she was going to do when she _found_ Kazuichi. This plan was made courtesy of panic and adrenaline, and it showed.)

She Solid Snaked around the yard until she found a backdoor that guards and maids seemed to go in and out of. She’d known it was there; she’d used it to sneak into Fuyuhiko’s house when she’d first gotten here. She tiptoed inside, making sure to shut the door as quietly as she could so no one would suspect anything. She ended up in a mudroom, which was also miraculously empty (for now). It was… Weirdly quiet. She definitely couldn't hear Kazuichi anymore, which was more than concerning.

That was also going to make it harder to _find_ him, darn it.

Chiaki sighed, before peeking out of the mudroom -- there were _definitely_ guards in the hallways. She had sneaked past them before, she could probably do it again.

Probably.

(She could.)

Fuyhiko had said something about locking Kazuichi in one of the basement cells, so that’s where Chiaki’s improvised plan took her. And of _course_ there were more guards positioned around the basement door, chatting casually with each other. Hovering in the doorway of a nearby room, Chiaki pouted for a moment - she was so _close_. Fuyuhiko’s household security were all people she was friendly with, so maybe she could just ask them nicely to let her through? But they might say no, and she couldn’t risk getting caught now, or else she’d have to start all the way over. If she even could. They might take her blanket rope away. The wheels were spinning in her head, trying to figure out how to sneak past them or distract them.

(Chiaki wondered briefly if she could sneak past them if she stayed crouching low. She considered this for a moment before realizing the real world wasn’t Skyrim and attempted to come up with a different plan of action.)

After thinking for a moment, and deliberating if it would be suspicious or not, she took off one of her shoes. (They were outdoor shoes, scuffed mary janes with the heels worn down from walking through the rough streets of the apocalypse. It was a weird little detail to notice right now, but Fuyuhiko had never provided her with indoor shoes to wear in the house. Would he be mad about her trailing dirt across his nice floors?) 

She waited until both of the guards were looking away from her, and chucked the shoe as far away from her as possible. It landed in another room (ten points!) and made a loud clattering noise, causing both of the guards to snap their attention to the noise. She waited as one of them walked away from the basement door and into the room. The other guard stayed. (Dang it.)

Chiaki bit her lip, precious milliseconds ticking down until the guard who’d left found her shoe. If he came back with her shoe, would they start searching for her? Would one of them go and report it to Fuyuhiko? Would they _both_ go, and leave her an opening to sneak past? This could go really, really wrong if she didn’t come up with a plan right now. Should she just go over and knock him out Mortal Kombat style? ...no, that’d be _mean_ , and plus, this guard was Okamoto, who’d gotten her a link cable for her Gamegirl. She wanted to battle his _Pokemon_ , not him in real life.

Welp, if she just did _something_ , it’d turn out alright, probably. Chiaki stepped out of hiding.

“Okamoto?” Chiaki asked. “Can I visit Kazuichi? Please?”

\-------------------

Okamoto tensed, whirling around suddenly to face her, his hand going to the gun at his waist.

“Miss Nanami,” he said carefully, his eyes darting back toward where the other guard had disappeared, and then down to her missing shoe. “You’re supposed to be grounded.”

\-------------------

“Please?” Chiaki asked again, her voice cracking and sounding more desperate as time ticked by. “I promise, I won’t be long, and you can tell Fuyuhiko where I am, but… please?”

\-------------------

A tense silence from Okamoto, and then he slowly relaxed and his hand left the gun. “The boss shoots people who bring him bad news, so you know what? I’ve just randomly gone blind. Go on through. I never saw you.”

He swung the basement door open for her and gestured her through, like a butler attending a lady.

\-------------------

Oh. Well _that_ was something Chiaki hadn’t known about until right now, and would probably have to think further about after she’d confirmed Kazuichi hadn’t bled to death. 

“Thank you!” Chiaki said quickly, giving Okamoto a short hug before dashing down the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. 

\-------------------

“Fifth cell,” Okamoto called after her, and then the basement door closed with a quiet click behind her.

\-------------------

Chiaki reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself in a familiar hallway, dim and narrow and lined with sturdy doors. She walked along it, limping -- mostly because she was still wearing a shoe on one foot and just a sock on the other. She paused for a moment to take off her other shoe, hopping on one foot past the small and thankfully vacant desk that functioned as a guard station, and coming to a stop in front of a door marked with a 5.

“Kazuichi?” Chiaki called softly, hoping that Okamoto was right about the cell. “Are you there?”

\-------------------

There had been a quiet clattering sound echoing through the basement, a scraping of metal on metal that went abruptly silent when Chiaki spoke. After a moment, something thumped heavily against the door; someone smacking their hands clumsily against it. The voice that spoke muffled through the wood was reedy and strained.

“Chiaki?”

\-------------------

“Kazuichi!” A rush of relief flooded her at the sound of his voice -- he was _okay._ Well… probably not, actually. He did get shot in the foot. But he was _alive_ , and coherent enough to recognize her, and that was good enough for right now.

\-------------------

“Yeah, come in,” said Kazuichi. There was a long pause, and then, “Oh, right, the door’s locked. Hang on.” More clattering around, and then the subtle squeaking of something being unscrewed. “I’ll just take the hinges off, give me a minute.”

\-------------------

Chiaki bounced in place for a moment, her tired body once again flooding with adrenaline and spiking her energy. “They let you keep your tools?”

\-------------------

“Uh…” said Kazuichi. “Technically yes? In that they didn’t, y’know, _search_ me for them, but also sort of _no_ because I didn’t actually have them on me. I, uh… lost them. During our whole brilliant escape plan. You were asleep for that part.”

\-------------------

“Do you need help? I, uhm...” Chiaki went to dig into her pocket to see if she had anything, only to remember she had left her hoodie in her room and she was only wearing a short-sleeve white button up and a skirt. “I don’t have anything on me, but if you have something to slide under the door I can pick the lock!”

\-------------------

“I’ve got some paperclips and a hundred yen coin. Can you pick a lock with that?” said Kazuichi.

\-------------------

Chiaki thought for a moment, some of her rational thinking _finally_ catching up with her. “I don’t know,” she said simply, her brows furrowing. “I’ve never had to pick a lock I-R-L before.”

\-------------------

“Dang,” said Kazuichi. “I mean, it was a good thought, anyway. I’ll just keep going with my whole taking-the-hinges-off-the-door plan, then. I can do that with paperclips. Ah, wait, I’m gonna have to reassemble the chair to reach the top hinge. Maybe if I just…” There was the sound of something heavy _thunking_ against the door. “Yeah, this’ll work! Little precarious, but-” Something went crashing to the floor. “AH OW OW OW, DAMMIT!!”

\-------------------

Chiaki flinched, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of Kazuichi crashing to the ground. “Are you okay?!”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” Kazuichi responded a little breathlessly, not _sounding_ okay. “Okay. Okay, yeah, that’s not gonna work, I _am_ gonna have to put the chair back together. Which means I gotta disassemble the thing I turned the chair into. This might take a while.”

More unidentifiable sounds, and then, “Wait! Wait wait wait wait, I just realized it’d be way easier to just unscrew the deadbolt! Seems kinda obvious, but in my defense, y’know, I’ve lost, like, a LOT of blood.”

\-------------------

Chiaki paled at that, fretting but unable to do anything. “Should you be moving around? I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

\-------------------

The door rattled around in its frame for a moment, and then the entire doorknob and deadbolt mechanism fell out of it and hit the ground at Chiaki’s feet. A hand absolutely covered in blood waved at her through the hole, and then Kazuichi swung the door open with a wide grin. He was white-faced and sweaty, balancing on one leg in a room completely carpeted in smears of slick wet blood. The chair and metal bedframe behind him had both been disassembled and then reassembled into something sort of resembling the back half of a very jagged and dangerous looking bicycle.

“Huh?” he said in the voice of someone completely preoccupied with their talent. “Why wouldn’t I be? I told you I had paperclips.”

\-------------------

Chiaki wasn’t sure whether to be upset at Kazuichi for moving around so much with a serious injury, or impressed that he was able to _do_ this much while also having a serious injury. She was mostly just happy that he wasn’t _dead._

“You should probably sit down,” Chiaki said, smiling at him a little bit. “Your foot is still hurt.”

\-------------------

“Yeah, okay,” said Kazuichi, and he sat down hard on the bloody floor. “I’d offer you a chair, but I took it apart already.” He gestured to the cobbled together thing at the back of the room. “Wanna see my buzzsaw?”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked. “Why do you have a buzzsaw?”

\-------------------

“It’s part of my escape plan,” Kazuichi said proudly. “It’s completely analog; I rigged up a hand crank and everything! You’d be surprised at the speeds it can hit. At first I was gonna try and cut through the wall, but then I remembered this room is underground. So I thought, new plan! I could just cut through the door!” He looked at the door, which was still standing partially open. “Okay… wait a minute… Yeah, okay, that plan’s not gonna work. I’m gonna have to reattach the lock first.”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked again before giggling a little bit… and then a little bit more. She’d been so _worried_ , and she was still worried honestly, but this was just so… _silly_. She kept going, but did her best to stifle the giggles as she talked. “Kazuichi, you don’t need to use the buzzsaw, you already opened the door.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi continued to stare at the door, nonplussed. “Y’know, I think at some point I forgot what this plan was about. Well now I gotta find some other use for this awesome buzzsaw. You think Fuyuhiko would mind if I went all lumberjack on the rest of his topiaries? Just to like, test if it works.”

He looked over at Chiaki, who was still giggling, and something suddenly clicked in his head. “W-wait a minute, Chiaki! You’re here! You’re supposed to be grounded! Does Fuyuhiko know you’re here? Not that you need his permission to go places, but, uh, he was definitely in a shooting people mood the last time I saw him!”

\-------------------

Chiaki pouted at the reminder, and shook her head. “I snuck out of my room. I’ll probably head back here in a bit; I just wanted to check and see if you were okay.”

There was a brief pause, before a realization hit Chiaki like a truck: Kazuichi being injured wasn’t the only thing she needed to be worried about right now. Pain was how Kazuichi Despaired! Chiaki suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash into her for not thinking about this before now; she’d been letting him walk around on a really bad, painful injury for the sake of her own peace of mind, when that could have easily made him… relapse? Relapse. Kyoko had compared it to an addiction before, so it seemed like the right word to go with.

“Kazuichi, _are_ you okay?” she asked gently, her brows furrowing in concern now. “Are you, uhm…” Chiaki trailed off, not sure how to politely ask _do you think you’re going to Despair after I leave?_ “Do you need me to do anything to help you with the pain?” she asked instead, because that seemed nicer.

\-------------------

“I mean, you didn’t happen to bring a thing of ibuprofen or something, did you?” said Kazuichi, that reedy note of desperation creeping back into his voice. “Not to, you know, not to _complain_ or anything, but this foot is broken. I am one hundred percent certain that this foot is broken. There are 26 sexy, sexy bones in the human foot, and Fuyuhiko just shattered, like, 25 of them. And he put a piece of _gauze_ on it.”

\-------------------

Chiaki did not comment on the Weird Bone Thing. She lived with Kazuichi for about three months while recovering from her coma; she already knew more about the Weird Bone Thing than she’d ever wanted to know about anything ever. The decor in Kazuichi’s bachelor pad got ten times weirder when you realized he picked out his pinup girls based on bone structure.

“I don’t, sorry,” Chiaki said, thinking. “There’s a guard desk out in the hallway. There’s bound to be a first aid kit with something in there. I think.”

\-------------------

“Uuuugh, yes, bring me drugs,” said Kazuichi, flopping back against the floor.

\-------------------

Chiaki nodded and jogged over to the desk she’d passed earlier, quickly rummaging through the drawers and finding the first aid kit. She glanced back up at the door, suddenly on edge at being in the exposed hallway instead of behind a wall or door, and quickly ran back to Kazuichi’s room with the first aid kit in one hand, and her shoe still in the other. 

She got back to Kazuichi’s room in record time, before haphazardly dropping her shoe to the side and opening the kit: it had hand sanitizer, band-aids of a non-Hello Kitty variety, gauze tape… Chiaki pouted at the lack of items that Kazuichi actually needed. 

“I don’t see any pain meds in here,” Chiaki said, disappointed. “And I don’t see anything that can wrap your foot up better than the gauze you already have.”

\-------------------

“Dammiiiiit,” Kazuichi groaned softly. With a grimace, he pushed himself into a sitting position again and tilted his head back to whine at the ceiling. “Okay, whatever, I can escape on it like this. I’ll take apart the buzzsaw and make some crutches. Brilliant escape plan part two, let’s do it.”

\-------------------

“Kazuichi, I don’t think we should run again.” Chiaki sat down in a relatively clean spot on the floor -- dusty but devoid of blood, somehow. “Fuyuhiko is already mad that we did that once, and that was before either of us got hurt,” she pointed out, poking a couple well placed holes in Kazuichi’s plan. “And if you try to walk on that foot, you might…” Chiaki trailed off again, before deciding to just say it and deal with a whiny Kazuichi; she was already kind of dealing with a whiny Kazuichi anyway. “You might Despair again. I don’t wanna risk it.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi sat up straight, his teeth gritted. “Six weeks,” he said. “And three days. And I think about twenty hours now? I dunno, time gets weird when you’re locked in a basement. But definitely six weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I Despaired. And it hasn’t been _smooth,_ and it hasn’t been _easy,_ and I’ve had some _really_ close calls, but I haven’t slipped. Not _once._ Not since I agreed I’d do better.”

His hands made fists against the floor, his eyes determined. “For six weeks, I haven’t hurt myself. And Fuyuhiko thinks it’ll break me if _he_ hurts me? _I_ didn’t fire that gun.”

\-------------------

Chiaki felt a bubble of happy, excited pride bloom in her chest, a smile making its way to her face. It wasn’t really the time for that sort of thing, but…

“I’m really proud of you,” Chiaki said, the words coming out of her mouth before she could even think about stopping them and being more productive. “You know that? You’re doing really, _really_ well, and I know it’s hard, but…” Chiaki trailed off, her emotions overwhelming her for a moment and making her unable to articulate what she was feeling. She used the moment to think on what she wanted to say, before continuing. “You’re doing great, and I’m happy for you.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi relaxed his shoulders a little, and grinned back at her through that shaky mask of pain. “I used to think Worst Remnant was an insult,” he said. “Actually, it’s probably my badge of honor.”

\-------------------

Chiaki beamed at Kazuichi, before her smile faded into a more serious expression. 

“Even with that though… I still don’t think we should leave. Even if we take the first aid kit with us.” Chiaki lifted the kit in question. “We don’t have enough supplies to keep your foot from getting further injured or infected. I don’t want you getting sick or being unable to walk again because of all of this. Plus, I still want to talk to Fuyuhiko about everything. I think he’s figured stuff out already, Kazuichi. Lying to him and running away is gonna make things worse.”

\-------------------

“Oh, yeah, he’s absolutely figured stuff out,” said Kazuichi, casually leaning back on his elbows. “He and Peko had a big argument about it while I was crying on the floor. He was like, ‘I’m weak, Peko, I can’t man up and kill her’ and Peko was like, ‘that’s not weakness that’s hot’ or something. Anyway the takeaway from that is that not only does he not want you dead, he’s pretty sure he couldn’t kill you even if he wanted to. So lucky you.”

He raised his leg with a grimace of pain. “Not so lucky for me, though.”

\-------------------

Chiaki was at least ninety-five percent sure that the conversation didn’t go _exactly_ like that, but she was glad Peko was able to talk to Fuyuhiko about things. Even if it was while Kazuichi was on the floor in pain. Though, Chiaki didn’t think that she herself would be a conversation topic at all.

“Hopefully when Fuyuhiko and I talk later, I can ask him not to hurt you more,” she said, starting to stand up. “It’s kind of not fair that he lets Peko and me not be in Despair, but for you it’s a bad thing.”

\-------------------

“Hey, maybe don’t mention me at all to him, actually, and he’ll forget that I’m here!” Kazuichi said with optimism. “But, uh… he’s not really letting Peko not be in Despair either. He just sort of told her she totally still was and not to talk about it. So I don’t think that went well, exactly.”

\-------------------

Chiaki pouted at that. That was bad. Peko had seemed determined to talk about that with Fuyuhiko, and for him to just tell her not to talk about it seemed… _mean,_ at best. Maybe that was the point? Chiaki hoped that Peko wasn’t in too much trouble. Knowing her, though, she’d probably not show it or want to talk about it, but still… 

She looked up at Kazuichi and aimed her pout at him, instead. “Kazuichi, if Fuyuhiko forgets you’re down here your foot might not heal right,” she said, thinking. “Granted, I could keep sneaking out to visit you sometimes! Probably.”

\-------------------

“If it gets infected I could amputate it with my buzzsaw!” said Kazuichi, excited to have finally found a use for his invention, and still so utterly distracted by his talent that he hadn’t entirely processed that said use involved cutting his own foot off. To be fair, his mental processing power wasn’t at full capacity right now. He HAD lost a lot of blood.

\-------------------

Chiaki stared at him for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

\-------------------

“Well, your plan wasn’t great either. I got shot. I don’t know if I mentioned that, yet? But you might have noticed, from all the blood. Just saying. Neither of us are bringing our A game today, on the plan front.”

\-------------------

“I was there,” Chiaki said bluntly, her mood dropping significantly. She hugged herself, guilt suddenly swallowing her whole. “I’m sorry. I said I’d protect you and...” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say. She looked at the ground and kicked the dirt instead. “It didn’t work.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi threw a paperclip at her, his face gravely serious. “Hey.”

\-------------------

The paperclip hit her knee and bounced off, landing on the ground unimpressively. Chiaki looked up from the floor, furrowing her brow at him in confusion before bending down and picking it up, tossing it back. “Hey?”

\-------------------

Kazuichi caught the paperclip, and fiddled with it idly in his hands. “Hey, _so what?_ Chiaki, this may just be the blood loss talking, but like… so what? I don’t think it’s your job to protect me. I’ve kinda had to realize that I’m completely powerless to protect you. So maybe neither of us can protect each other from whatever crap Fuyuhiko wants to do to us, and we should stop blaming ourselves and start blaming HIM, y’know?”

\-------------------

Chiaki thought for a moment. She _knew_ that, logically. Fuyuhiko _shot_ Kazuichi. With a gun. On purpose. That, as a general rule, was considered a bad thing to do, and under any other circumstance Chiaki knew that she’d be absolutely _livid_ on Kazuichi’s behalf. However...

Fuyuhiko had been pretty straightforward and public with the fact that he was doing all of this because of things Chiaki had done. It wasn’t just a Despair Thing, it was a Yakuza Thing too. Fuyuhiko had to punish people who broke his rules. Even if those rules were stupid and full of Despair, and breaking them had been the right thing to do. (She still believed that. She hadn’t done anything wrong.) But she’d purposefully broken those rules, knowing it would make Fuyuhiko angry. She hadn’t thought about the consequences. She’d dragged Kazuichi into it, without even thinking about how he might get in trouble too.

In the end, whose fault was it for everything that was happening? Fuyuhiko’s, for getting angry and hurting Kazuichi? Kazuichi, for being scared and making everything worse because he’d tried to help her out? Chiaki’s, for going out of her way to do the right thing without an actual _plan_ to make sure everyone got out unscathed? Kyoko’s, for inciting the riots and putting them all in a place where this was necessary to begin with? 

Chiaki didn’t know. All of the options available to her felt bad. Blaming her friends, when they were just trying to do what _they_ thought was right at the time, also felt wrong. 

However, she did also know that Kazuichi was right, to an extent. It wasn’t like Fuyuhiko couldn’t just… _not_ have shot him in the foot. Logically, it was a choice that Fuyuhiko made. It didn’t feel right to think like that, but… it wasn’t wrong, either. Chiaki also knew, logically, that Kazuichi was mad that his foot got broken, and he was trying to comfort her so she didn’t feel guilty about not keeping her promise to keep him safe... 

\-------------------

“You’re doing a heck of a lot of sad, dramatic staring at the floor,” said Kazuichi, interrupting her inner monologue. “It’s not that deep, Chiaki. Say it with me: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu is being a _raging asshole._ ”

\-------------------

Chiaki was snapped out of her spiraling, only for her to sputter and cover her mouth to hide the sudden, confused laughter. “What? Kazuichi, _no,_ that’s mean!”

\-------------------

“It’s not mean, it’s _true,_ ” said Kazuichi with a grin. “And again, maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but I have this buzzsaw and I need to test it on something, and Fuyuhiko’s been kinda INCREDIBLY a jerk lately…”

\-------------------

Confused amusement shifted into a deadpan expression. “Kazuichi, _no._ ”

\-------------------

From upstairs there was a sudden shout, loud and furious enough to echo through the entire house, as the local raging asshole finally yanked Chiaki’s duvet aside and discovered her pillow double.

“GOD _DAMN IT,_ CHIAKI!!”

Kazuichi went somehow even paler. “Okay are you SURE about that? Because I feel like we’re about to get a really good opportunity.”

\-------------------

“Uh-oh.” Chiaki paled as well, realizing quickly that she had stayed down here for too long. She’d really, really meant to sneak back into her room before anyone realized she was missing. “Uhm, do you think he’ll catch me if I go out there now?”

\-------------------

“Who cares, as long as you’re not here to get ME in trouble?” said Kazuichi, frantically nudging her toward the door with his good leg.

Somewhere above them, there was a long, creative string of curses growing rapidly louder and nearer in tandem with Fuyuhiko’s too-fast footsteps. It stopped just outside the door to the basement, and the muffled murmur of an angry conversation with the guards made it clear that the only exit had been cut off.

“Okay, too late, just, uh… just hide somewhere!” With an awkward amount of effort Kazuichi picked up the discarded mattress that had once been a part of the bed he’d disassembled, and threw it at Chiaki, as if she could somehow just hold it in front of herself and not look suspicious. Aw yeah, all this blood loss was really making him sharp. Great plan. Foolproof.

\-------------------

Chiaki caught the mattress and held it in front of herself for a moment. This… was not a good plan. She let go of it (ignoring the muffled _oof_ as it tipped over onto Kazuichi), and ran out of the room. She walked about three paces, pivoted, and peeked around the doorframe, frantically whispering. “Stay here! I’ll go hide! You didn’t see me!” 

This was, logically, _also_ a bad plan, mostly because it entirely depended on Kazuichi’s nonexistent ability to lie. It wasn’t like they had any other options at this point, though.

She frantically looked around, Fuyuhiko’s voice climbing in both pitch and volume as he went for a swear combo high score (it was kind of impressive, but also terrifying considering _why_ he was yelling so loud and cursing so much), before spotting the desk where she’d found the first aid kit. She ran over to it and ungracefully slid underneath it, pulling the desk chair in close to herself as the basement door opened with a loud bang against the wall. Chiaki was out of breath, and did her best to quiet her breathing as someone (the shoes were clicking, but dang it Fuyuhiko wore _fancy_ shoes so of _course_ they clicked on the floor like heels) walked slowly towards her. The back panel of the desk hid all but a tiny sliver of the hallway, a bar of light which flickered as Fuyuhiko’s shadow passed.

He stopped, not in front of her, but in front of Kazuichi’s door.

Kazuichi’s very open, very broken door.

Oops.

\-------------------

“Why is your doorknob on the floor?” said Fuyuhiko, his voice filled with a cold, controlled anger.

“‘Cause I couldn’t reach the hinges after I took my chair apart to build a buzzsaw,” said Kazuichi.

“Uh-huh,” said Fuyuhiko, not even remotely questioning that. “And where’s Chiaki right now?”

“In her room?” said Kazuichi. “I dunno, where’d you put her?”

Fuyuhiko’s gaze traveled down to where Chiaki’s discarded shoe lay on its side next to the open first aid kit. He hefted her other shoe in one hand, tossing it in the air and catching it. “Try again.”

“Uh,” said Kazuichi. “Okay, so… those… um… those are my shoes. I was wearing those shoes the whole time. Wait, hold on…” He struggled out of his remaining tennis shoe and stuck it behind his back. “Yeah. See? My shoes.”

“They’re pink,” said Fuyuhiko.

“They match my hair,” said Kazuichi, defensively. “I haven’t seen Chiaki. I don’t even know anybody named Chiaki.”

Fuyuhiko stared at him. “Alright, maybe we’ve let you lose a little too much blood.”

“This isn’t my blood,” said Kazuichi, who was on a roll now. “I’ve never even seen this blood before. This could be anybody’s blood.”

“I’m just gonna follow this trail of anybody’s blood in the shape of Chiaki’s footprints,” said Fuyuhiko.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Kazuichi.

“That a threat? What, ‘cause you’re gonna come at me with your buzzsaw? I don’t think you can even stand up.”

“No, I just don’t want you to, because that’s where Chiaki is,” said Kazuichi.

Some of the fury seemed to drain from Fuyuhiko. His shoulders sagged with a small, resigned sigh. “Kazuichi, maybe you should lie down.”

“I also took apart the bed.”

“Uh….huh.” Fuyuhiko gave up on that conversation and followed Chiaki’s bloody footprints to the desk she was hiding under. Walking around to stand behind it, he pulled out the chair, grabbed the edge of the desk, and bent down to look at her.

“Really?”

\-------------------

Chiaki’s initial reaction to seeing the chair start to move was to scoot back, as though blending in with the desk behind her would somehow help things. (It wouldn’t; the desk was dark, and she was wearing a white shirt.) However, when Fuyuhiko finally leveled her with a deadpan, displeased expression, she couldn’t help deflating a bit herself and looking up at him sheepishly from where she sat, a little embarrassed and a lot guilty. 

“In my defense, I panicked,” Chiaki said softly, averting her gaze and rubbing her fingers together, unable to fidget with the hem of anything since her jacket had been left upstairs. “People do weird things when they panic.”

\-------------------

“I didn’t tell him where you were!” Kazuichi shouted from the other room. Fuyuhiko ignored him.

“Yeah, alright,” said Fuyuhiko. He didn’t sound angry anymore. The conversation with Kazuichi had given him a bit of a chance to cool down, and right now he was just tired, and resigned, and ready to be done with the whole thing. He’d suffered through the same endlessly long, terrible two days Chiaki had. “I did shoot him to provoke you on purpose. Probably should have expected you to escape and do something stupid. Not like we’ve been guarding you real well. Sorta been going on the honor system there. Guess that’s my fault for assuming you had any. Maybe it’s about time we stick you back in one of these basement cells.”

\-------------------

Chiaki’s heart sank -- not at the idea of going back into the basement cell, she had definitely slept in areas that were _much_ worse before. But she didn’t like Fuyuhiko being disappointed in her. She bit her lip and let her back hit the bottom of the desk. “I told Kazuichi I’d keep him from getting hurt. I just wanted to make sure he was okay, and…” Chiaki let out a sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted after all of the adrenaline wearing off. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

\-------------------

“Well, he’s not okay,” said Fuyuhiko.

“I’m fine!” Kazuichi called from the other room. “I think we should be focusing on the culprit who left all this mysterious blood in my room!”

“He’s also a really bad liar,” said Fuyuhiko. “And yeah, it was a terrible idea, and it had consequences, just like all your other terrible ideas have had consequences. I’m counting on the fact that you’ll eventually pick up on that. I’ll get somebody to move your stuff.”

“Neighbors!” Kazuichi yelled.

Fuyuhiko considered how potentially destructive it would be to keep the two of them in close proximity, and had a change of heart. “Alright, you can keep your old room, but we’re installing some fuckin’ bars on that window.”

\-------------------

“That’s fair.” said Chiaki, nodding in agreement. “Also, we should probably find a way to get Kazuichi to take a nap or he’s gonna hurt himself.”

She thought for a moment and her tired brain thought it very important to add: “Also also, we should all play hide-and-seek sometime. Your house is awesome for it.”

\-------------------

“He’s like a four year old, he’ll tire himself out eventually,” said Fuyuhiko.

There was the sound of Kazuichi’s buzzsaw starting up, followed by a loud grinding snap and a piece of metal from the bedframe flying through the open doorway and embedding itself in the wall behind Fuyuhiko’s head. The yakuza did not so much as flinch. 

“We should probably talk about what the hell you did to him,” ( _and to Peko,_ he thought and did not say) “…but now’s not the time. I think what needs to happen right now is you need to go back to your fuckin’ room and _stay there._ ” He offered Chiaki her shoes.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked, and solemnly nodded. They _definitely_ needed to talk. It was a talk that they couldn’t exactly _avoid,_ no matter what was going on around them. She took her shoes back from Fuyuhiko, muttering a small thanks. She took a moment to deliberate whether or not she wanted blood both outside _and_ inside her shoes before deciding to slip off her socks and put her shoes on over her bare feet. It was kind of gross, but it was better than having soggy, blood covered socks in her mary janes.

“Can I say goodbye? It’s probably gonna be awhile before I see Kazuichi again, right?”

\-------------------

“No,” said Fuyuhiko. “I don’t think you should keep talking to him, because whatever you’ve been saying to him, it’s screwing him up.”

“FUCK Despair!!” shouted Kazuichi.

“You see? He’s suicidal now.”

\-------------------

Chiaki pouted at that; she did agree with Kazuichi’s sentiment, but… “I think that might be the blood loss. Probably.” She started to scoot out from under the desk, letting Fuyuhiko move away from her as she stood up and stretched -- and realized that she didn’t have her jacket on.

Small scars littered the entirety of her arms, up beyond the shoulders, small pinpricks to remind her and her friends of what she went through.

She immediately brought her arms down and crossed them, trying to hide them. She didn’t like looking at them; they made her feel weird, in a really bad way.

Like she was falling down an elevator shaft.

She looked up at Fuyuhiko; focusing on someone else made the woozy feeling of her stomach flying up to her throat more bearable. “I’m ready.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko was also staring at the scars.

As she crawled out from under the shadow of the desk and the light hit her, they were obvious and everywhere, standing out starkly against dark bruises in the shape of his fingers, from when he'd grabbed her arms back in his office. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before; he’d known they were there, but-

_Despair welled up like static at the memory of watching those spears stab through her, at knowing she was horribly, viscerally dead and it was his fault, he’d been too late, she was braving that death maze for him-_

With a rattling roar and a CLANG, another piece of buzzsaw went rocketing past him and smashed into the desk, snapping Fuyuhiko out of it. “KAZUICHI YOU FUCKING BASTARD, WOULD YOU STOP MESSING WITH THAT CRAP!!” he screamed, an excuse to turn away from Chiaki and avert his eyes. The static ebbed.

He took her roughly by the arm (you can’t feel the scars, they’re too small, that’s just your imagination) and guided her a little too roughly past Kazuichi’s room, where he was sitting in the middle of the floor and examining the remains of his buzzsaw with a sort of baffled interest. “Kazuichi I swear to god, I’m gonna take her to her room and you’d better have gone to fuckin’ bed by the time I get back. I don’t care what you did to the bedframe. You’ve got a fuckin’ mattress, sleep on that.”

“Make me,” said Kazuichi, wedging a paperclip into the drive of one of the screws on his device and using it as a makeshift screwdriver.

“I’ll shoot your other foot,” said Fuyuhiko.

“Hah! Joke’s on you! It _was_ my blood the whole time, and I’m all out of it now.”

“You… certainly are out of it,” said Fuyuhiko tiredly. “Tell you what. Go lie down and I’ll have Peko bring you some painkillers.”

“I love you,” said Kazuichi, with teary-eyed sincerity.

\-------------------

Chiaki waved goodbye silently at Kazuichi while Fuyuhiko talked to him, doing her best to not move her arms from where they were crossed, suddenly self-conscious. Fuyuhiko had seen them and _stared_ at them -- it felt weird. Very weird. Chiaki didn’t like it, and suddenly wished she hadn’t given up her jacket for this plan. 

This was the _worst_ idea Chiaki had ever had.

Well, at least Kazuichi was getting something for the pain he was in now. Thank goodness for that.

She let Fuyuhiko pull her back up the basement stairs, and up the not-basement stairs, into her bedroom. Her window was closed, and her rope was gone. She figured as much would happen if she got caught, but she was still kind of sad about it; she and Kyoko had worked hard to get it sturdy enough to hold someone’s weight without untying itself.

Chiaki immediately grabbed her hoodie off the bed and put it on, the scars on her arms once again hidden from plain sight. She stuck her hands in her pockets, and with a small sound of surprise, pulled out a wad of bloody bandages. She’d completely forgotten that she’d helped change Fuyuhiko’s bandages today. Today had been so long, it felt like weeks ago. The blood had soaked right through the hoodie, and left a spot of red on the duvet. Oops.

“Uhm.” Chiaki looked up at Fuyuhiko, fidgeting for a bit. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” she said. Was she talking about the arm scars or the fact that her bed had looked like she committed seppuku in it? Even _she_ wasn’t sure.

\-------------------

“I’m a yakuza, I don’t get freaked out,” Fuyuhiko said shortly, lying through his teeth. (Because he’d absolutely jumped to conclusions, in that split second when he’d walked into her room to find her lying motionless, blood slowly seeping across her blanket.)

He reached out and took the bandages from her. “Chiaki, just… stay in here. I’m not gonna kill Kazuichi. I promise. If you need anything, there’s gonna be guards at your door. Just yell at one of them before you decide to do another damn stealth mission.”

\-------------------

Chiaki stretched and yawned -- was this what her GameGirl felt like when she pushed the almost dead battery? Man, she was never doing that again. (Okay, that was a lie, but at least she could sympathize now.)

“Okay,” she said, giving Fuyuhiko a slow, sleepy nod in response to his request. “I was just scared cos he got hurt. I won’t leave again.” 

Chiaki paused, seeming to finally realize that she kind of looked like a mess. “Actually… am I allowed to go take a bath? All of my clothes are dirty, and the only time they get washed is when I’m not wearing them, so…” Her face flushed slightly at the admission, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know that she’d walked in with nothing but the clothes on her back.

\-------------------

For the first time, Fuyuhiko realized that she’d been wearing the same outfit for two weeks. The same shirt and skirt, the same hoodie, the same scuffed and falling apart pair of outdoor shoes. They’d mostly stayed clean; he vaguely remembered seeing one of his men laundering her hoodie at one point. But it wasn’t just the blood - the thing was threadbare and coming apart at the seams. 

He really was a terrible host. He’d planned on getting her new clothes weeks ago, and he’d just... never done it. He’d once been excellent at micromanaging fine details like that. Hell, it was half his talent. As the Ultimate Yakuza and head of the Kuzuryu Clan, he had to be good with details. Was it Despair that made him neglect that, lately?

“Yeah,” said Fuyuhiko, thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

\-------------------

Chiaki gave him another tired smile and nodded at him, before stifling a yawn. She sat down on the bed and took off her shoes, flopping onto pillows that were vaguely clean and not blood stained. She reached up to the top of the bed and grabbed the expertly folded Usami-chan, and started to fidget with the hems of her ears. Quietly and all at once, Chiaki’s exhaustion caught up with her, and she fell asleep before she could even think to get under the blanket or say goodnight to Fuyuhiko.

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko stood there for a while, staring down at her.

He could probably kill her right now, if he wanted to. He looked down at his hand, the one that had held the knife, the one that had frozen up on him and refused to move and cut off her finger. That hand reached out and pulled the duvet over her, gently, and then he walked away, closing her bedroom door quietly behind him.


	14. Makoto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for someone completely different!
> 
> In this chapter, Makoto and Chiaki were played by Blueflame91, and Kyoko was played by RedPen.

Makoto let out a heavy sigh after the director said cut, slumping against the podium he was standing behind as the film crew and his public relations team scuttled around and converged on him. He was emotionally drained -- he always was, right after filming these -- but he couldn’t allow anyone to see him like that. At least, not for too long. 

He was whisked away to have his makeup removed, compliments and congratulations given from everyone on another job well done. His PR manager immediately started prattling off his schedule for the next day as they walked back to his office, Makoto nodding and humming in response in the right places to give the illusion of actually listening to her. He was tired, and he was pretty sure he was going to hear the same stuff tomorrow morning anyway, so it was fine if he spaced out a little, right?

When they got to Makoto’s office, he snapped back into reality, relieved. “Hey, I gotta do some paperwork, so I’ll talk to you later?”

His manager gave him a nod. “Alright. I’ll email you your schedule later tonight then. You did a good job today, you’ve earned the rest.” She gave him a short, respectful bow that Makoto would have flustered over if he weren’t so tired. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to people bowing to him, for any reason, outside of a severe apology. “Have a good evening, Mister Naegi.”

Makoto gave her a short wave as she turned and walked away, before going into his office and letting out another heavy sigh, leaning back on the door and looking up at the ceiling as though it would provide answers. When Makoto was first tasked with the job of “spreading Hope” by the Future Foundation, he’d assumed that would mean going out and helping people, talking to people on the streets, doing what the other agents did. 

It wasn’t that. 

Instead, Makoto was handled like a display piece, only shown when speeches needed to be given; either as propaganda for the masses, or as motivation for their own men. On occasion they’d send him out on missions that were mostly just him going around refugee camps and helping out, but even then it wasn’t really anything more than a photo op. Something about the way it was handled, it felt… fake. Makoto knew, logically, it wasn’t. At least, not entirely. He had some rough patches with his personal PR team in the past, but recently they’d been really good about listening to him and avoiding things that were either blatant lies or things that he didn’t want to talk about. But even then, he stood there, reading off the teleprompter and letting people take photos of him with refugees, and it all felt like he was putting on a show instead of actually helping people.

Makoto pushed himself off of his door, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Maybe asking someone for advice would help? He scrolled down to Kyoko’s name, before pausing and letting out a sigh -- she was on a recon mission right now, so contacting her might be dangerous. He scrolled to Byakuya next, only to pause again; he’d just been sent to Towa City earlier today for a secret mission of his own. Makoto frowned, trying to think if Hina or Hiro or Toko would have any advice for a situation like this and coming up empty. He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket before walking over and sitting heavily at his desk, leaning back in his chair.

Makoto checked his computer for any updates; Kyoko had sent him a message a few days ago, and been silent ever since. It wasn’t exactly paperwork, like he’d told his PR manager, but it did feel important to keep checking his inbox. (Because surely today, this afternoon, this hour, this minute, she’d finally message him again and he’d know she was okay.)

He opened the email for what felt like the thousandth time. No body text, no subject line, only a single attached file titled _objective.pdf._ Once again, he looked over the file; about twenty digital photos of paperwork laid out on an opulently decorated desk, names and pictures and addresses, printed lists and handwritten notes -- a neat but somehow _angry_ handwriting, like whoever’d written them was pressing down too hard on the pen.

One printout, a particularly dense file titled _Izuru Kamukura Project_ , full of miniscule print and scientific looking diagrams, had taken up the entire desk when all the pages were spread out. Another photo was of a collection of polaroid photographs laid out across the wood grain: pictures he remembered from the Remnants’ own propaganda, of Ibuki Mioda’s concerts and Sonia Nevermind’s impassioned speeches, alongside more candid shots of people he’d never seen before.

(An incredibly muscular and intense looking man, laughing boisterously and slapping a malnourished and waifish woman on the back as she posed as if to show off nonexistent muscles of her own. A man with brightly dyed hair and an even brighter jumpsuit, his head turned slightly to roll his eyes in good-natured annoyance at the camera as he tore a handful of wires from a partially disassembled Monokuma. A sickly-looking guy with unkempt wispy-white hair, sitting on a rusted hospital gurney while behind him and slightly out of focus, a long-haired woman with her back to the camera examined what looked like... a bonesaw? He was waving cheerfully at the camera with his left arm, his sleeve rolled up to the elbow, his smile genuine and excited. It was easy to see why these photos hadn’t been used for propaganda. They made the Remnants look too human.)

This file was a death sentence for the Remnants of Despair. When all of this info was sifted through and examined, it would probably tell the Future Foundation exactly how to track down almost every Remnant. There was a part of Makoto that still felt convinced that Kyoko sent this to him by mistake. That these photos should have gone straight to the various division leaders, or at least to Tengan, or someone important like Munakata. Not the designated figurehead and _team mascot_. But right now, the only person in the Future Foundation who’d seen this file was Makoto Naegi. And it had been sitting unforwarded in his inbox for several days now. It was treason not to send this out immediately to everyone in the organization, but it was also the least of the treason they were currently planning.

He refreshed his inbox again.

There was another message from Kyoko.

Makoto eagerly leaned closer to his laptop screen, reading the message she sent. She needed to meet him somewhere private. Makoto felt a rush of relief; she was back! He would have to ask her if she was feeling okay once he saw her in person, but knowing that she was okay enough to ask to meet up with him was good enough for now. 

Well, no point in keeping her waiting! He took a moment to type out a reply telling her he was on the way to her office, before closing out of his laptop and quickly walking out the door. Makoto needed to check in with her; maybe it was a little embarrassing, but he wanted to be absolutely sure she wasn’t hurt.

\-------------------

Kyoko waited in the secret meeting spot she’d picked out, peeking out of a barely open door at the halls of the 14th division’s building, watching a sparse collection of very busy looking people pass by. On cue, Makoto Naegi’s ahoge bobbed past at eye level, and she swung the door open, grabbed him by the shoulders, and quickly pulled him into the broom closet with her. There was a quiet splash as one of his feet landed in a mop bucket, and the handles of a few cleaning implements clattered together as they fell against his side.

\-------------------

Makoto yelped as he was grabbed and dragged into the closet as though he’d set off a trap in a video game, flailing and tripping into a bucket filled with cleaning water, as well as knocking a couple things off of the shelf behind him. His captor had shut the door behind them, and the dim light from underneath the door was just barely enough to be able to see. Kind of. 

“What --?” He moved his now sopping leg out of the bucket, water squelching in his socks and shoes. He looked up and saw Kyoko, staring and watching him collect himself after she’d snatched him out of the hallway. 

“Kyoko!” Makoto said, excited to see her, even if it was in a stale smelling janitor’s closet. Actually… “Why did you drag me in here? Wait, no, are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

\-------------------

“Sorry to startle you like that,” said Kyoko, digging around in the pockets of her jacket as she spoke, not really paying Makoto all that much attention. “I’ve been gone for almost a week, and that means the various political factions of the Future Foundation and spies for the Remnants of Despair have had an entire week to plant listening devices in my office. And I just got back about ten minutes ago and I’m honestly too tired to go looking for them.”

She looked up at him at last, dark circles under her eyes, her face sporting a few faded bruises and scabbed-over cuts, hard to make out in the darkness. She was aware that Makoto probably wouldn’t react well to an answer like _I spent some time in Fuyuhiko’s torture room._ “I’m less hurt than I look,” she said, vaguely but honestly.

\-------------------

Makoto nodded in response to Kyoko’s comment about the listening devices -- it was something Byakuya was also concerned about, though he got snippy and affronted about anything recording him in general nowadays. He wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t aware of the weird political stuff that happened between departments. Kyoko would occasionally complain about it, that she’d been positioned as the head of what was essentially just the social media team, and that far too many of her important missions and projects kept ending up reassigned to other divisions.

Maybe both of them had issues with the Future Foundation, but it was better than the alternatives so far. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Makoto replied simply, finally relaxing for the first time in the past couple of days. “I was really worried. Not that you’re not capable of handling yourself, but, I mean… I was worried.” The last part fell a little flat, wording wise, but it was sincere. He _had_ been worried; to get a super important message like that, and hear nothing back for several days? It was nerve-wracking.

\-------------------

“Hold that thought. First things first, we need to establish an alibi,” said Kyoko, finding what she was looking for in her pocket and pulling out a tube of lipstick. “The building’s security cameras will have caught us both coming in here, so a little diversionary tactic-” She applied the lipstick quickly and messily, and then leaned over and pressed her lips to his, smearing it against his face. “-should give them the wrong idea about what we’re doing privately in here. I assume you got the data I sent you on the Remnants?”

\-------------------

Her lips were so soft. The lipstick felt weird and waxy, but… kissing was nice.

Unfortunately, kissing was also brief, and Kyoko had already moved on to the next topic. Makoto was suddenly having a hard time keeping up. “The Remnants?” He echoed dazedly, before realizing she was talking about the email. “Oh!” Too loud. Makoto flinched and lowered his voice, “Oh, yeah, I got that.”

\-------------------

Kyoko replaced the top on the lipstick and stuck it back into her pocket. “I sincerely hope it was _helpful_ information. I haven’t actually read any of those files. I wasn’t sure how much time my distraction would buy me, so I just pulled them out of Kuzuryu’s desk at random, took pictures of them, and put them back where I found them as quickly as I could. You’ve had a chance to look it all over?”

\-------------------

“Definitely,” Makoto said simply, giving her a sharp nod. “I’ve looked at it, it was just… a _lot_ to go through.” Makoto furrowed his brow, allowing himself to show his frustration to Kyoko. Unlike his PR team, she didn’t mind him actually expressing negative emotion every so often. “I was hoping to be able to figure it all out, but you and Byakuya are better at doing investigative stuff like that, and Byakuya just left for Towa City, so I couldn’t ask him for help.”

\-------------------

“Towa City is one of the most stable parts of the world right now. I can’t imagine that mission taking him more than a few days,” Kyoko said dismissively. For that matter, she couldn’t imagine that dubious bit of intel about their family and friends being kept as hostages in the city as anything but wildly inaccurate. Those hostages couldn’t have been meant for anything but another motive, and the killing game had been a year and a half ago. The Remnants of Despair would never have kept them alive for so long afterwards, if they’d ever had them captive at all. The whole thing felt suspiciously like a trap.

Still, it would be irresponsible not to at least check. She’d planned for the worst and assigned Byakuya a full team of agents, just in case. If it _was_ a trap, Byakuya Togami was the first person she’d trust to handle it. “We’ll fill him in when he gets back.”

\-------------------

Makoto nodded in response, but had a gut feeling that things weren’t going to be that easy. Not that Byakuya was going to get hurt or anything, but… Makoto let out a soft exhale. He was probably just worried about Byakuya like he had been for Kyoko. Worrying about people you cared about was normal. Byakuya would be fine, and he’d be back soon. Makoto had believed that for Kyoko, so he could believe it for Byakuya.

Besides, Kyoko had just asked him about the file she’d sent. It’d probably be better for him to stay on topic so she could go get some rest.

“The info you sent about the Izuru Kamukura Project was useful,” Makoto said, changing the subject away from Towa City and towards something that would make Kyoko feel better. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t have that before. And you sent over a bunch of photos of people that we haven’t seen anything about yet, so I’d bet they’re probably Remnants that aren’t public. There were also a bunch of names and addresses, but I haven’t been able to figure out what belongs to who yet.”

\-------------------

“The man with the aggressively pink hair is Kazuichi Soda, if that helps get you started,” said Kyoko, crossing her arms and fidgeting with her sleeves slightly. Names and addresses and contact information. So she’d actually accomplished her mission. Kyoko felt more conflicted than excited about that. “You’re the only one I’ve sent that file to. Have you shared it with anyone else?”

\-------------------

Makoto shook his head immediately. “No, I haven’t. The Future Foundation would _kill_ them if they got a hold of that information and I…” His shoulders sagged. “I can’t do it. They’re Despair, but I can’t willingly put someone on the chopping block like that.” His expression hardened and his fists clenched. “ _Never_ again. Not if I can avoid it.”

\-------------------

Kyoko continued fidgeting with her sleeves, that conflicted feeling sitting unpleasantly in her stomach, the treason and betrayal sharp in her mind. In some ways, she knew, she’d been a horrible choice for Division Leader. Her loyalty would always be to the other killing game survivors before the Future Foundation.

“I thought you’d say that,” she said. “My mission was a matter of public record. The fact that I succeeded is not. I could tell the Future Foundation that I wasn’t able to find anything useful, or that I wasn’t even able to bypass Kuzuryu Clan security and make it into the house. I don’t have to hand this file over.”

\-------------------

Makoto nodded, giving Kyoko a relieved smile; he had sort of figured that this was the reason that she’d sent him the file instead of literally anyone else, but it was nice to have confirmation. 

“We can use this to find them and help them, instead,” Makoto said simply. “We’ll put them in the Neo World Program, and it’ll be like Junko Enoshima had never met them in the first place.” Makoto was suddenly excited and happy -- his plan, all of his hard work, was starting to finally pay off. 

However, _Kyoko_ had done all of the hard work this time, and Makoto couldn’t let that go unappreciated. “Kiri, thank you so much for this. I promise I won’t let you down.”

\-------------------

Kyoko, by contrast, grew a little more cold and withdrawn, her arms still crossed tightly at her chest. Because... they couldn’t use the Neo World Program. Not knowing what she knew now, not with how the situation had changed. She wasn’t sure how he was going to take this. This plan was Makoto’s baby, his one hope for saving these people instead of killing them.

Well, Kyoko wasn’t one for mincing her words. Might as well rip off the bandage. “Makoto, we need to talk about the Neo World Program. Things have come to light which-”

She blinked, suddenly very, very distracted. “...wait, _‘Kiri’_?”

\-------------------

Makoto also blinked at the sudden question, replaying his words in his head before feeling his face grow hot. “Oh! Yeah, Kiri! Like a nickname? Y’know, like how Hina and Hiro have nicknames! I was thinking, like, how we have nicknames for some of us but not all of us and, for you, Kiri sounded cute, and if you don’t like it I can not use it, I won’t be mad --”

\-------------------

“It’s… cute,” she said, baffled, cutting him off. “Kiri? Kiri. _Kiri._ ” A soft hum at the back of her throat, her lips pursed together slightly, smearing the lipstick. It seemed like everyone was intent on giving her nicknames lately. “Kiri. Like the kanji in my surname? _Kiri_ as in mist or fog? Because I come across as the… mysterious detective type?”

She was certain he couldn’t see her blushing slightly in the darkness. “Did you spend the whole week I was gone coming up with that?”

\-------------------

Makoto’s face somehow grew warmer in response to Kyoko’s reaction and questioning. “N-no! I mean, that’d be kind of weird, right, taking a whole week to come up with that? I still gotta work and stuff, but uh… I did. Spend _some_ time thinking about it. Kiri… suits you. It reminded me of you, and also… it’s literally part of your name. So.”

He averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks red and feeling embarrassed about the nickname slipping into this Very Important conversation. “Like I said, if you don’t like it, I don’t have to use it or anything. I just thought it suited you.” There was another moment of silence, before Makoto risked a glance back at Kyoko. “...do you like it?”

\-------------------

“Do Toko and Byakuya get nicknames?” she asked bluntly, ever the detective.

\-------------------

“I tried giving Byakuya one before he left, but he got mad at me and told me it was childish,” Makoto answered honestly. She’d find out either way, somehow. Kyoko was amazing like that. “Toko also got mad at me for giving Byakuya a nickname, so giving her a nickname too felt a little dangerous at that point. So… no? I don’t think so, anyway, unless they change their minds.”

\-------------------

“So, just me, then,” said Kyoko.

“I’m fine with it,” said Kyoko.

“If you want to call me that,” said Kyoko, sounding nonplussed.

\-------------------

Makoto relaxed a little bit, his face still warm, and an equally warm smile spreading across it.

She liked the nickname. 

“Alright, Kiri,” Makoto responded softly. “I’ll do that from now on, if that’s okay.”

\-------------------

“Okay,” said Kyoko.

An awkward silence, standing uncomfortably close to each other in a dark closet with lipstick on their faces. Kyoko cleared her throat.

“Regarding the Neo World Program...”

\-------------------

Makoto waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t his expression grew more serious. “Kiri, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

\-------------------

Kyoko pressed a knuckle against her mouth thoughtfully, ignoring how it got lipstick on her glove. “Context first,” she said to herself. “Evidence first, and then I’ll present my conclusion.” She met his eyes calmly. “Makoto,” (Should _she_ give _him_ a nickname? Had he been expecting her to? Was he disappointed that she hadn’t? Did “Ultimate Hope” count, or should she come up with something cuter? She wasn’t good at cute. No, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that.) “I said I wasn’t badly hurt, and I’m not. But my mission to Nishi-Shinjuku didn’t exactly go smoothly. I was caught by Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu.”

\-------------------

Makoto gasped, but bit back his instinct to fret over her and make sure she was okay -- she’d already told him she wasn’t hurt, but hearing that she’d been captured by _Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu_ of all people did not instill confidence regarding levels of okayness. Even if he _wasn’t_ one of the Remnants of Despair, he was literally the leader of the Yakuza! Kyoko was kind of lucky to still be alive!

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Makoto asked instead, keeping his hands at his sides. “You don’t need to sit down or anything? He didn’t hurt you?” So much for not fretting. 

\-------------------

 _His men roughed me up a little._ He _took a nap,_ Kyoko did not say, because it would only make Makoto fret further.

“I handled it,” she said dismissively. “The important thing is that during my escape, I spoke with another Remnant. Kazuichi Soda; I believe you’ve seen his picture.”

\-------------------

“The aggressively pink one,” Makoto confirmed, quoting something Kiri herself had said not ten minutes ago. “Right, I’ve seen him. You got to talk to him while you were escaping?”

\-------------------

“For quite a while. He showed me a powerpoint presentation,” said Kyoko, who wasn’t sure how else to explain that whole… _event_ because context did not make it any easier to understand. “It didn’t appear to be seeded with any subliminal brainwashing techniques, but I suggest you keep an eye on me for odd behavior these next few days, just in case.” That was just her natural attention to detail; she didn’t think it was likely. Kazuichi had not seemed competent enough to have thought of something like that.

\-------------------

Makoto gave her a solemn nod; it was Future Foundation policy that anyone who’d had contact with a Remnant would need to be quarantined: isolated from the rest of the organization and carefully observed for signs of Despair. Usually, that observation was done by division four or seven, so that they could perform a psych evaluation at the same time, but if Kiri wasn’t going to report that she’d been around a Remnant for the sake of their plan… she was trusting Makoto with this instead. 

“I can do that for you,” said Makoto. “What else happened?”

\-------------------

Kyoko smiled slightly. Makoto was as reliable as ever. It was nice to have him on her side. “It’s a very long story. You might want to take off your wet sock.”

\-------------------

Somehow, around the point where they’d been blushing a lot and talking about nicknames, he’d completely forgotten the discomfort of his wet sock. Makoto did, in fact, take off his wet sock, along with his soggy shoe. 

He listened to Kiri as she went over the events of her escape, her conversation with Kazuichi Soda and Chiaki Nanami around a bowl of stolen kitkats, while the house’s security tore around looking for her just outside. Makoto’s face went slowly from serious to a grin as she talked. There was someone out there already working to save the Remnants? Kazuichi had made the decision to try and get out of Despair on his own?! That was _great_ news!

But wait… “So if they can get out of Despair by themselves… that means we don’t have to put them in the Neo World Program.”

\-------------------

Kyoko relaxed slightly at his excited reaction. He’d come to the same conclusion she had.

“At this point,” she agreed, “I think using the Neo World Program would be _wildly unethical._ If Kazuichi is anything to go by, they’re not mindless killing machines, and brainwashing them AGAIN is neither moral nor a mercy. They’re… treatable addicts, Makoto. I’m at a loss for what to do with that. It goes against everything we’ve been working on.”

\-------------------

“It also goes against everything the Future Foundation is telling everyone,” Makoto added, looking pensive. _And everything I’ve been reading off the teleprompter in all these dumb speeches,_ he did not say. He knew exactly what the Future Foundation’s propaganda sounded like. He was the one saying it. However, now wasn’t the time to be bitter about his job to his actual boss, even if they did kiss sometimes. And had cute nicknames for each other.

Makoto silently wondered if Junko and Mukuro were also treatable addicts. If he’d known that, could he have helped them?

No. Stop. Now wasn’t the time for that. They were… _gone._ They were gone. He had to focus on the people still here. It was all he could do.

“Well, maybe we can find other ways to help them,” Makoto said, nodding in agreement with what Kiri was saying. If they brainwashed them again after everything they had already done and been through… that would be awful. They couldn’t, in good conscience, call that anything other than wrong. “How was Kazuichi handling it? Did he give you any ideas?”

\-------------------

“He spent most of the time googling clipart for his powerpoint,” Kyoko answered honestly. “But he seemed… improved. Very on edge about it, and not entirely clear on why he was doing it, but certainly determined to avoid Despair. I wouldn’t say his goal was Hope, exactly, but he wasn’t actively revelling in his misery. If he’s capable of that, they all are. They just have to be convinced to actually do it. It’s not exactly as if we can just kidnap them and deprive them of Despair until it’s out of their systems.”

Although… could they? The Neo World Program might still be of use, if it came to that. Could they run them through it without overwriting their personalities, instead just depriving their brains of a Despair fix for a few weeks? No, the program was still in its early stages. There was too much risk of something going catastrophically wrong, and too much risk of permanent brain damage even if everything worked as intended. Besides, she was making the mistake of thinking of it too much like a chemical addiction. There was no guarantee yet that depriving them of Despair would actually rewire their brains, not without further research. And that plan still came far too close to brainwashing.

“His motivation for working so hard at it seemed to just be… Chiaki Nanami,” she said at last. “She’s not one of them, she’s never been in Despair, but somehow he genuinely respected her and wanted her approval. From how they explained it, Fuyuhiko is the same way. He cares about her enough not to kill her, and she’s using that. Her plan is to get in contact with _all_ of them, and give them disappointed looks until they stop. And so far, it’s actually _working._ It’s absolutely remarkable.”

\-------------------

"Should we try and help her, then?" Makoto asked, his expression still pensive but his thought process switching gears. "If she's been living out there surrounded by Despair and not fallen into it herself, that's a pretty good sign too, right? Maybe she can help us get to know them! We could all be friends, right?"

Makoto knew that it was a pipe dream in reality, but… if anyone would be able to tell, it'd be Kiri.

\-------------------

If Kyoko was in the habit of shooting down Makoto’s pipe dreams, they wouldn’t be this far into their drastic misuse of the Neo World Program. “I can’t say that it’s impossible, but we’ll need to be very careful about it. Getting too involved with us or the Future Foundation could be dangerous for her.” _Not to mention dangerous for us, if someone like Munakata finds out,_ she thought. “But of course we’re going to help her.”

She dug around in her pocket again. “I offered to stay in contact with her, so I have some dubiously reliable contact information.” Kyoko produced the snack-stained piece of paper upon which Chiaki had written her Miiverse username. “We may need to acquire some Nintendo products. How good are you at Pokemon?”

\-------------------

Makoto furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. "Can you be _bad_ at Pokemon?"

(Makoto would, in the next few days, find out the answer was both yes and no -- it was entirely dependent on how you played. He would also find out he was definitely NOT a gamer, and pretty bad at Pokemon if he tried to get too strategic. The RNG had it out for him.)

\-------------------

It took a few days, but contacting Chiaki proved to be surprisingly easy, once they actually got ahold of a Nintendo console. (And no, Kyoko discovered quickly, a PS3 was NOT a Nintendo console and could not connect to Miiverse, and Hiro, who’d tracked it down for her, was refusing to refund her money for it.) The greatest bonus of it was, Kyoko could sit in the middle of the Future Foundation’s cafeteria, in plain sight as she make an account for herself on a 3DS (which Hiro had acquired for her on the house and with much apologizing after she’d significantly slashed his salary to recoup her PS3 losses), and not a single person suspected she was contacting the Remnants of Despair. She just looked like she was playing a video game.

Makoto hovered eagerly over her shoulder as she named her account “Eifie,” hoping Chiaki would quickly understand who was contacting her without having to be told. It seemed a little too big a risk to make the Mii look like herself, so she passed the console to Makoto and let him design something generic. “Alright. Let’s send a message and see if we can make some friends.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu’s sprawling house had settled slowly back into an uneasy normalcy, and Chiaki’s days passed by in an uneventful haze of Mortal Kombat and Super Smash Brothers -- which game she played depended entirely on whether she felt like getting out of bed or not. Fuyuhiko hadn’t visited in a few days; Chiaki wondered quietly if he was using the time to try and break down Kazuichi. It was worrying, but it wasn't like she could escape again -- even with the lack of visits, Fuyuhiko _had_ made good on his promise to bar her windows.

Chiaki was trying to get through another minigame in Super Smash Brothers when she saw her notification light on her GameGirl light up. She furrowed her eyebrows and checked her messages, and saw she had a Miiverse friend request. Huh. Was it one of her guards? She was already friends with a couple of them…

She saw the username 'Eifie', and immediately sat up at attention, surprised. Was it… it had to be. Chiaki didn’t know anyone else who went by that nickname. She quickly accepted the request, and sent a message.

~~~~~~~

_neko_pinku says: hi eifie! (=^･ｪ･^=))ﾉ彡☆  
neko_pinku says: did u make it home ok? (=･ｪ･=?_

_Oh, Komaru would get along with her._ Makoto thought immediately. Kaomojis were really cute and Komaru had a thing for them for a while. _She seems nice, too._

\-------------------

With Makoto still reading over her shoulder, Kyoko sent back:

_Eifie says: I made it home and met up with my friends._

These messages should be private, but she wanted to be careful. If anyone was reading over Chiaki’s shoulder and forcing her to respond, Kyoko didn’t want to say anything that would put Chiaki in more danger. After a moment’s thought, she continued with:

_Eifie says: Do your parents know you’re on here? I don’t want to say any bad words if they’re going to read it._

It might be too much to hope for that the Remnants wouldn’t immediately guess “Eifie” was her, but her goal was to sound like some kid Chiaki could have coincidentally met online, just in case they were reading along. If Chiaki got the hint, she could let Kyoko know whether or not to drop the facade.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked at the message, confused. It took her a minute to realize what Kyoko was asking, but she quickly replied:

_neko_pinku says: no one else reads these. its just me. (ﾐ∩ᆽ∩ﾐ)∫  
neko_pinku says: probably. (＊☉౪ ⊙｡)  
neko_pinku says: everyone who plays on miiverse with me has their own console so they dont need to use mine. d(=^･ω･^=)b_

Chiaki paused for a minute, realizing that she was going to call Fuyuhiko her parent and that was _super_ weird, but…

_neko_pinku says: and if my parents want to play games with me we use my tv consoles, so they dont see my miiverse stuff. (ﾐㆁᗜㆁﾐ)∫  
neko_pinku says: so you can relax and swear if you want to. ~(=^‥^)_旦_

\-------------------

No one was reading over Chiaki’s shoulder, but Kyoko still considered the fact that someone might find out about all this and go through Chiaki’s message history later.

_Eifie says: Thank you for letting me know, but we should still be careful not to say anything that could be a problem for you.  
Eifie says: What happened after the last time we spoke? Did you get into trouble?_

\-------------------

Makoto read over Kiri's shoulder as Chiaki replied with way more cat kaomojis and the fact that she was "grounded to her room" and her “little brother” was in "even more trouble than her". She had ended this with a "ฅ(=˃̣̣̥ᆽ˂̣̣̥=)" emoji, so that probably wasn't good. 

"Ask her if she's okay, Kiri," Makoto said quietly, already starting to fret over their new friend. "She seems kinda upset."

\-------------------

It sounded like Kazuichi had received the brunt of the blame, which was good, and further confirmed Kyoko’s theory that the Remnants were unwilling to hurt Chiaki. What exactly had been done to Kazuichi wasn’t specified, but Kyoko assumed Chiaki would have gone into more detail if it was something serious.

_Eifie says: That sounds like it’s been a difficult time for you and your brother. How are you doing? Is there anything I can help with?_

\-------------------

Chiaki took a moment to think about this; Kyoko _did_ offer to help if she could, but…

~~~~~~

_neko_pinku says: no im okay. i did a dumb thing and snuck out for a while after u went home, and eventually we are gonna talk about it. my parents and i i mean. (=✖ᆽ✖=)∫  
neko_pinku says: im worried about my brother cuz we got grounded from hanging out, tho. i hope hes okay. (=;ェ;=)  
neko_pinky says: im not expecting you to help with that! im just venting a little. (=´∀`) 人 (´∀‘=)  
neko_pinku says: my parents say he'll be okay, and im gonna trust them. ( =￣▽￣= )Ｖ_

Makoto smiled at her response. He could see why the Remnants would hesitate to hurt her, just from this little bit of conversation alone. She trusted them.

 _She's pretty brave._ He thought, watching Kiri think of a reply. _I definitely think if anyone can do this, she can. I believe in you, Nanami._

\-------------------

“It doesn’t sound like she’ll be giving in to Despair any time soon,” Kyoko murmured to Makoto, though she knew he could already tell. “She still seems optimistic about it, just frustrated. That’s probably a good sign.”

As much as she understood Makoto’s desire to be an emotional support network for someone surrounded by Despair, that wasn’t the only point in contacting Chiaki. Kyoko went back to slowly typing on the 3DS, telling him quietly, “I’ll see what I can glean from her that might be helpful with our future plans. I know it sounds callous, but things going horribly wrong for her is unfortunately the best way for us to determine how effective those plans actually are. If…” A quick glance around the cafeteria. Maybe doing this in public hadn’t been her best idea after all, but playing a game with Makoto in the middle of the cafeteria still looked less suspicious than clandestine meetings with him in random broom closets.

“If her… brother… still remains on her side even after being separated from her, that’s a good sign. If not, he’s got no real motivation for recovery, he’s just playing along to keep her happy. This might be our only chance to determine that one way or the other.”

It was an insensitive question and she knew Makoto would disapprove no matter how much she explained herself, but Kyoko asked it anyway.

_Eifie says: Do you think he’ll relapse?_

\-------------------

"Kiri!" Makoto whisper-yelled after the question was sent, but he saw Nanami start replying immediately after.

_neko_pinku says: no! not at all! i believe in him!（งΦ Д Φ）ง  
neko_pinku says: hes one of my best friends, and he’s been by my side since the beginning. plus, when i snuck out earlier i got to talk to him, and he seems pretty confident that hell be fine. (✿ °∀°)ฅ^◕ﻌ◕^  
neko_pinku says: it was super cool! im really proud of how far hes come! *:･ﾟ✧(=✪ ᆺ ✪=)*:･ﾟ✧_

Makoto smiled at that. He really, really hoped this would work. He was rooting for Chiaki. It probably wasn’t too smart to trust someone this quickly, but she seemed so earnest and genuine about how much she cared for her friends, even via text. It was kind of refreshing, seeing someone determined to help instead of destroy. 

\-------------------

Kyoko nodded slightly to herself and typed back, sticking to the sort of loose code they’d established.

_Eifie says: What about your father? Have you made any progress?_

\-------------------

Chiaki let out a huffy sigh and pouted as she replied, soft clicking and tapping from the GameGirl rapidly repeating itself as she took the time to think out what she was going to say next. 

_neko_pinku says: he said he and i were going to talk about things, but that was a few days ago. (⁎˃ᆺ˂)  
neko_pinku says: i havent seen my mom around at all either, which is making me worry about her, too. (=；ェ；=)  
neko_pinku says: my little brother said he heard them having an important discussion about mom being like him. and dad got upset with her and told her not to talk about it anymore. (^=˃ᆺ˂)  
neko_pinku says: shes okay, i think. i havent seen her since before they talked. ive been kinda lonely cos of that. (✦థ ｪ థ)_

\-------------------

_Eifie says: We will try to remain as available to talk as possible, so keep us updated on your situation. We’re all on your side._

\-------------------

_neko_pinku says: we? (・ω・`)ゞ_

\-------------------

Kyoko smiled slightly.

_Eifie says: The egg and I._

\-------------------

_neko_pinku says: heheh (*･∀･)／(=^・^=)_

Chiaki snorted softly to herself at Kyoko’s reply, before laying back down and typing out another reply of her own. 

_neko_pinku says: thank u eifie. youre a good friend. ♪♪♪ Ｕ・ｪ・Ｕ人(^･x･^=) ♪♪♪_

\-------------------

_Eifie says: I do quite literally owe you my life._

\-------------------

Somewhere a few floors below Chiaki’s room, there was a sudden, loud _bang,_ accompanied by the yelp of someone being electrocuted, and she lost her internet connection as the power throughout the entire house went out. 

Chiaki was left lying in semi-darkness, her face still lit by the illuminated screen of her GameGirl, dull evening light from the polluted sky outside spilling in through the bars on her window. She sat up again, leaving her handheld on her pillow. She could explain things to her friends in the Future Foundation later. She was sure that Kyoko and Egg (whatever his real name was) would understand.

What was going on? Was everyone okay?

(Well, Chiaki could take a good guess as to “what’s going on” -- Kazuichi was messing with stuff and it made the power go out, probably. Hope’s Peak had a bajillion generators, and even they couldn’t always keep up with Kazuichi’s projects. Fuyuhiko most likely just had a regular fuse box and nothing else.

Oh, wait, _that’s_ what had happened. Fuyuhiko had a fusebox, and it was in the basement where Kazuichi could reach it, probably, and it had wires and mechanical parts, and he was bored and had access to paperclips. Yep, that would do it.)

That still left the more important question: was everyone okay? Chiaki had seen Kazuichi electrocute himself on purpose plenty of times, but having it happen when you weren’t expecting it generally kind of sucked, probably. Well… there was only one way to find out, and that was to ask. 

Chiaki moved quietly to the door and tentatively knocked on it. The lock clicked, and the guard on duty cracked open the door, his body blocking it enough that she couldn’t make a run for it. He looked as stunned and out-of-the-loop as she was about the power outage. “Miss Nanami?”

“Hi, Suzuki,” she said, waving at him briefly before asking, “What’s going on?”

“I think,” said Suzuki, carefully, a note of apprehension in his voice, “What’s going on is that the boss is about to get very, _very_ angry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naegiri shippers, you're welcome. Naegami shippers, we'll get to you.


	15. Peace Offering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki was played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko was played by RedPen. Suzuki the guard got passed around.

There was a moment of darkness and silence, presumably as Fuyuhiko took the time to remember why you didn’t leave Kazuichi understimulated and unsupervised in your basement for several days. Then his voice rang out loud and furious, echoing through the house at a volume that rattled the windows.

“KAZUICHI FUCKING SODA!!”

“Not my fault!” Kazuichi’s voice yelled back distantly. “I didn’t touch your fusebox! And even if I did touch your fusebox, whatever happened just now was unrelated to what I was doing to your fusebox!”

Fuyuhiko’s footsteps thundered across the house and down a flight of stairs, and Kazuichi’s distant yelling turned to “hey hey hey HEY HEY I said it’s not my fault!! Your house has shoddy, crappy wires, man!! No, hey, no no no no-”

“What the FUCK did you do to my basement?!”

“Remodeling? Your little DIY jail down here is _depressing,_ I’m making you a rec room. I just removed some walls, man, don’t get all pissed off just because you never check on me down here!!”

Another loud crash, another yelp, and the sound of Fuyuhiko’s feet thundering back up the stairs, something heavy dragging behind him and smacking hard against every step.

“Ow, ow, OW!!”

“Peko!!” Fuyuhiko shouted, his voice echoing through the house again. “Tie this idiot to something and WATCH HIM.”

\-------------------

Chiaki listened to the commotion going on downstairs, flinching as Kazuichi (at least, she thought it was Kazuichi) thumped up the basement stairs.

“Can I ask if everyone is okay?” she asked Suzuki, who was also staring off worriedly in the general direction of the noise of Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi’s fussing downstairs.

“I was ordered not to let you leave the room,” he said nervously.

“I could just shout?” Chiaki suggested.

Suzuki thought that over seriously, and then shrugged. “I mean, I don’t see why not? Just don’t leave the room.”

She nodded, and the guard opened the door a little wider while Chiaki stuck her head out; nothing else. Just her head. There was a moment of silence while she sucked in a deep breath and screamed: 

“IS EVERYONE OKAY?!”

\-------------------

“It’s about to NOT be okay!!” Fuyuhiko screamed back in her direction. “You’d better not have left your room! Who the hell’s watching that door? Suzuki? Suzuki, I’m gonna skin you if she fuckin’ left that room.”

\-------------------

“I’m still in my room!” Chiaki yelled back, coming to Suzuki’s rescue. She had to back him up, they were sharing an Animal Crossing New Leaf file. Chiaki was _not_ working off her debt to Tom Nook by herself, and Suzuki was just as much of a completionist as Chiaki was. Plus, they were friends! She couldn’t not defend him. He gave her a thankful look, and she gave him a deadpan thumbs up before continuing on. “Suzuki is just letting me check to see if everyone is okay! With the bedroom door cracked open and me not outside! Please don’t skin him, he’s just being nice! Plus everyone else was yelling so I felt left out!”

\-------------------

A door slammed somewhere nearby, and a moment later Kazuichi’s voice was sounding at least a floor closer. “Peko! P-peko, Peko, hey, you can’t just tie somebody up like that! You gotta worry about circulation! I’m gonna lose a limb! Pekooooo…”

\-------------------

“Kazuichi, are you okay?!” Chiaki yelled. 

\-------------------

“No! It’s dark and I’m tied to a thing!!” Kazuichi shouted back.

“BOTH OF THOSE PROBLEMS ARE YOUR FAULT!!” Fuyuhiko screamed back at him. There was more stomping and slamming of doors, and then presumably Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were in the same room again because the screaming died down to the volume of a normal conversation.

For a few minutes, at least.

“FUCK Despair!!” Kazuichi screamed shrilly, his voice echoing across the house and making Chiaki’s guard wince with the expectation that the boss was gonna kill _somebody_ for that.

“I COULD KILL YOU FOR THAT, YOU FUCKIN’ BASTARD!!”

“Oh yeah? Kill me, then! I bet you won’t! I bet if you were gonna, you would have by now! Hey! Hey Fuyuhiko’s guys! FU-” Something was shoved into Kazuichi’s mouth, cutting him off, and there was another slamming door.

\-------------------

Chiaki felt dread in the pit of her stomach as Kazuichi shouted and was then silenced. Chiaki knew that Fuyuhiko wouldn’t kill Kazuichi (he _promised_ ) but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t end up in the same position as Kyoko. “Fuyuhiko?! Kazuichi?!”

Suzuki jumped, as if he’d just remembered that he had left the door open for her to yell through. “Miss Nanami, it might be a good idea for you to close the door now.”

“But --” 

“The Boss is pissed off, Miss. Just trust me, it’s better for everybody if you sit this one out. All this screaming is bad for my skin.”

Chiaki furrowed her brows at that, but the guard didn’t bother looking at her after he said his piece, shutting the door in her face -- quietly, but resolutely enough to confirm that it wasn’t getting opened again until things blew over. She sighed and fidgeted for a moment, hoping that Fuyuhiko didn’t get too angry or hurt anyone.

~~~~~

Time passed. The house remained dark. Whichever one of Fuyuhiko’s men was trying to fix the fusebox, Kazuichi’s ability to creatively disassemble things was apparently continuing to outsmart him.

Chiaki had picked up her GameGirl again, exiting her Miiverse game (she couldn’t play it without WiFi anyway) and going into one of her rhythm games instead. The repetition of the game helped keep her focus on _something_ instead of the gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach. Worry about Kazuichi, and Peko, and Fuyuhiko, and the guard outside her door. She didn’t like being cooped up like this, but Fuyuhiko had asked her to stay put.

\-------------------

Eventually, there was a brief knock and the door to Chiaki’s room creaked open again, and Fuyuhiko stepped inside, his face lit from beneath by a dim light.

“Here. It’s gonna be a while.” He held out a scented candle.

Standing there in the darkness, Fuyuhiko realized awkwardly that it was the first time he’d actually come to see her since the Kyoko Disaster. He could have ordered one of her guards to bring her a candle, but he’d wanted to do it himself. That little flickering light felt oddly like a peace offering.

\-------------------

The candle smelled sweet but unfamiliar. Chiaki stared at it for a moment, before a smile slowly crept up on her face. She took the candle from Fuyuhiko, holding it in between them so they could both take advantage of the light.

“Thanks.”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” said Fuyuhiko. “Well. We need to talk.” He closed the door with a quiet click behind him. Aside from the candle and the dim light of a quickly darkening twilight outside, the only light in the room was from the many blinking lights of Chiaki’s various consoles. He swore there were more in here than last time. One of his men was probably still smuggling her games. He did not really have the energy to be angry about that.

Fuyuhiko walked over and sat down on the bed. “So. Kazuichi’s… uh…” _Not getting better,_ was how he almost worded it, but she wouldn’t think of it that way. “…sticking to his principles.”

\-------------------

It took her a moment to figure out what he meant. However, when she did, it was mostly the darkness that hid the fact that her smile got brighter. Kazuichi was _finally_ telling the truth, and not only that but he was refusing to be scared or intimidated out of it. It seemed like Kazuichi was just going to keep giving Chiaki reasons to be proud of him. 

Granted, one slip up in extreme circumstances like this wouldn’t have been the end of the world, either. She would have understood.

"That's a good thing, right?" Chiaki asked, her happiness at the news seeping through her voice. She couldn't help it, really. She was so _relieved._ She sat down next to him. "Kazuichi needs to do that kind of thing. Probably."

\-------------------

“He needs to fuckin’ get over himself already,” Fuyuhiko said through gritted teeth. “Thinks he can just say whatever the hell he wants. I’ve been giving him some leeway ‘cause he’s clearly screwed up in the head right now, but I can’t just ignore that shit forever.”

He sighed and slouched his shoulders a bit, the anger draining out of him. “He won’t talk to me, Chiaki. He won’t tell me what you did to him. I don’t know what’s going on in his head right now, but it ain’t Kazuichi’s normal shit. Just… tell me how to fix it.” _Because I’m terrified I might need to fix Peko too,_ he did not say aloud.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked and thought for a moment. “I mean, I hung out with him and talked to him. Not just about Despair, but a bunch of stuff,” Chiaki said, before looking up at Fuyuhiko. It was hard to make out his expression. It was so dark, but it wasn’t like that could be helped. “I told him it made me upset when he did Despair stuff.” She thought about it further. “Actually, I didn’t even say anything about Despair stuff. I just said that I didn’t like to see him hurting himself. And then Kazuichi kinda just… stopped doing it by himself. He told me he was going to, and he did. He’s worked really hard at it, and I’m really proud of him.”

\-------------------

“That can’t be all you did,” said Fuyuhiko, frustrated. “Maybe that’s all you think you did, but you’ve gotta think harder, ‘cause he’s real screwed up. I shot him in the fuckin’ foot, and he didn’t…” Fuyuhiko stared down at his hands in blank disbelief, as if baffled at how the act of shooting someone could be so ineffective. “…He didn’t immediately fall ass-backwards into Despair about it. That’s how he’s always been; the slightest thing goes wrong and he just gets high on it and lets the rest of us deal with the consequences. He’s not doing that. I don’t know why he’s not doing that.”

\-------------------

Chiaki pouted at Fuyuhiko not believing her at first, but when she thought about it, it would make sense for him to be confused. "That's because he's been _working on it!_ I’m not the only one who’s proud of him. He’s proud of himself!"

\-------------------

The words “Kazuichi” and “proud” didn’t seem like they should fit together in a sentence like that, but she wasn’t wrong. After two and a half years of cowering and sniveling and miserably accepting his position as Worst Remnant, Kazuichi had suddenly and inexplicably grown a goddamn spine. Had Hope done that to him?

Fuyuhiko looked back to Chiaki. “Okay, listen. You talk a big game about curing us of Despair, right? Maybe it’s time we sat down and actually talked about how you plan on doing that. ‘Cause right now, Chiaki? I’d really like to know what your strategy is. Promise I won’t kill you for it.”

\-------------------

There was a beat of contemplative silence, while Chiaki looked at the candle she was holding. The wax was starting to melt, and the fire warmed and illuminated her face softly. 

“I…” Chiaki started, before pausing and furrowing her brows. She honestly wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Fuyuhiko this, because it was most likely going to make him angry, but… “I don’t have a plan,” she admitted, shrugging and looking at Fuyuhiko sheepishly. “I’ve never had a plan. Even though everyone says I need one, I don’t think having a plan would really _work._ Unfortunately for Kazuichi, we aren’t all robots.” Chiaki giggled softly at her own little joke, before her expression became serious again and she continued on with a reflective look on her face. “You’re all different people, and your personalities are different, and the things that make you Despair are different, and how willing you are to change is different. I have to meet you where you are, not the other way around.”

“So I guess… if anything, that’s what I did for Kazuichi,” Chiaki concluded. “I saw him, and met him where he was. And he decided to come back with me.”

\-------------------

In the large, dark room, her words were gentle, and quiet, and honest. Fuyuhiko sat there on her bed, his face in darkness while hers was in flickering light, and stared at nothing while she talked. Her ideals disgusted him. He deeply respected her sincerity. In an odd, precarious dissonance, he felt both things at once.

“Well, it’s Kazuichi,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. “He’s always been the weakest link. Goes along with the rest of us out of more fear than loyalty. If one of us was going to turn traitor, of course it would be him. Doesn’t mean that shit’ll work on anybody else.”

\-------------------

“It doesn’t mean I won’t try, though,” Chiaki said, giving Fuyuhiko a wry smile. It sat on her face for a couple of seconds before slipping into a more genuine expression, still directed at her friend. “You’re all worth it, I think. You’re all good people, Fuyuhiko.” She gently leaned over and nudged his non-injured shoulder with her own. “Even you. I think you just forgot.”

\-------------------

“That’s a shit plan, Chiaki. I haven’t forgotten about the person I used to be. I just killed him.” The parasite behind his eyes writhed. He rubbed at his eyepatch with the heel of his palm, gritting his teeth and forcing the feeling away, barricading it behind some dam at the back of his brain.

\-------------------

Chiaki furrowed her brows and tilted her head to the side, confused. “You did what to who now?”

\-------------------

“It’s… goddamn it Chiaki, it’s a fuckin’ metaphor. I’m saying there’s no going back to who we used to be. There’s just… pretending, maybe. That’s all Kazuichi is doing. Playing make-believe that he isn’t an irredeemable bastard who can never, ever undo the shit he’s done. We’ve all crossed lines that can’t be uncrossed. What are you gonna do about it, just pull the same shit you did with Kazuichi and give us disappointed looks until we start playing nice?”

\-------------------

“I’m not saying Kazuichi is gonna be able to undo anything,” Chiaki pointed out. “I didn’t say that about you, either. I just said I think you’re good people, and that you forgot. Like how Kazuichi is really sweet and creative and strong when he wants to be, or how ridiculously loyal and organized Peko is, or how you go out of your way to remind the people you care about how much you care.” Chiaki looked down and squeezed the candle a little, smiling down at the little dancing flame there. “Even through little things.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko also looked down at the candle, that tiny flame making warm reflections on the glass. That dissonance intensified, the desire to wrench it out of her hands and smash it against the floor - let the room catch fire and barricade her in to burn - warring with that need to set things right between them. Because Chiaki was his friend, and he gave a shit.

He looked away from the candle, into the darkness again. Or, no, his eye was adjusting to the dim light now. Into a large, comfortable, luxurious room, full of Chiaki’s favorite things. Gaming consoles and screens and projectors. Piles of snacks. A blanket fort. A towel still, after all this time, folded into the shape of a rabbit.

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko wasn’t saying anything, so Chiaki spoke to fill the silence. “I’m not here to give you disappointed looks. I don’t care about making you guys, uhm…” Chiaki took a moment to think of the correct word. “Atone? Apologize? I mean…” She trailed off again, taking another moment to mull things over, her brows furrowing with the effort of her concentration. “I said it before, but good people can make bad choices, and if _you_ want to apologize for making those choices or find a way to atone, I’ll support you. But I’ve never thought you were irredeemable, or a monster. You’re the one who keeps saying that.”

Chiaki went suddenly silent, her eyes widening slightly. Fuyuhiko was still looking away from her into the darkness. And she saw where he was, and she met him there.

“Do you feel irredeemable, Fuyuhiko?” Chiaki said quietly.

\-------------------

It wasn’t Despair that rose in him, but that all too familiar shame, hot and humiliating. At his own anger. At his lack of self control. At the things he’d done, and the things she’d seen him do. At this shithole of a world she’d woken up in, his creation, his fault. Broken beyond fixing, just like he was. Of course he felt irredeemable.

And then he felt panic.

“Shit,” said Fuyuhiko, standing up suddenly. _“Shit!”_

\-------------------

Chiaki startled a little, looking up at Fuyuhiko from where she sat on the bed. “Fuyuhiko? What’s wrong?”

\-------------------

The Remnants of Despair should not be capable of _guilt,_ no way in hell should they be susceptible to _disappointed looks,_ and yet a sudden shock of horrified realization ran through Fuyuhiko, icy cold against the heat of that shame, at the knowledge that _she almost got him._

There’d been a brief period where he’d given in to the shame of that disappointed look. Where he’d decided not to Despair in front of her, and ordered Peko to do the same. If it hadn’t been for the whole mess with Kyoko Kirigiri snapping him out of it… she would have broken him the way she broke Kazuichi.

That panic rushed through him, drowning out everything else. _It almost got me. It got Kazuichi. Fuck, it got Peko._ There was some glitch in their mental programming. It was the only explanation. Some flaw in their brainwashing, a loophole in Her glorious plan. Something that allowed for just the right kind of shame to slip through the cracks. Fuyuhiko took a sudden step back, without really meaning to. It wasn’t like it would work on him as long as he knew about it, right? It wasn’t fucking witchcraft. _But it almost fuckin’ got me!_

\-------------------

Chiaki watched worriedly as Fuyuhiko moved away from the light, his dark suit blending into the shadows of her room. She couldn’t see his expression, but he seemed really tense now. “Fuyuhiko? Are you okay?”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” said Fuyuhiko, his voice sharp and strained. “Yeah, ‘course I am. I’m the same as I’ve always been.” He was, she hadn’t gotten him, he’d snapped out of it before he was too far gone. _Did you?_ whispered the parasite. _Even now, you can’t kill her, can you? Even when she’s already turned Kazuichi, even when you know how big a threat her ideals are, you can’t kill her. That doesn’t sound like you’ve snapped out of it._

He could kill her right now and fix everything, but just like the last time he had that thought, the eager rush of Despair that coursed through him felt weak and watered down - not enough to override his common sense or his own moral code, the way it was supposed to. He would get no ecstasy from killing her. He’d just feel bad.

Was this how Kazuichi felt? That Despair wasn’t important anymore, that the pleasure wasn’t enough to be worth the pain? _No, I’m not going to fall for this! I’m not!!_

“Keep the candle,” he said hoarsely, taking another step backwards toward the door. “I need to check on how Peko’s doing with Kazuichi.”

\-------------------

Chiaki felt a weird mix of panic and disappointment as Fuyuhiko blended further into the darkness while backing away from her. She didn't really _want_ Fuyuhiko to go; this had been the first time anyone had actually visited in a couple of days, and this was the most the two of them had actually _talked_ about the Despair Stuff outside of yelling at each other and brandishing weapons. Plus, it really was lonely, not knowing when you were going to see your friends again. 

Also, she didn't like the idea of Kazuichi getting hurt by Peko. Peko had always said if she was ordered to, she would do it, but the idea of that always left a bad taste in Chiaki's mouth.

"Don't hurt him," Chiaki said, holding the candle a little closer to her body, lighting herself more in the process. "I know you might have to punish him somehow because of yakuza reasons, but…" she trailed off, not sure how to finish her thoughts. So instead, she squeezed her candle and gave Fuyuhiko a pleading look instead. "Please."

\-------------------

The candlelight flickered across her worried face, and something in Fuyuhiko clenched up, wanting to reassure her and promise her he wouldn’t do anything to Kazuichi. The words rose unbidden, and the best he could do to stop them was disguise them as something callous.

“I shot him in the fuckin’ foot, Chiaki. Hurting him is accomplishing a hell of a lot of nothing.”

Already hidden by the darkness, he turned toward the door so she couldn’t see his face. “I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on, though. I’d be a real shitty host to just leave you in the dark.”

The door opened, and closed, and he left her in the dark.

\-------------------

Chiaki sat there, dim lighting from the sweet scented candle keeping things lit enough as she stared at the door, not entirely sure how to process the emotional whiplash of their soft, serious conversation ending with Fuyuhiko’s tense whirlwind of an exit. If Chiaki didn’t know better, she would have thought Fuyuhiko was panicking, but… he didn’t do that sort of thing, did he?

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko leaned his back against the outside of Chiaki’s door, breath suddenly coming in quick, shallow gasps. _What’s wrong with me? Am I scared of her right now? No, I’m…_ He was shaking, he realized. Kazuichi was downstairs screaming about “FUCK Despair,” Peko was admitting that she didn’t really feel Despair at all, and he… couldn’t kill Chiaki. Didn’t even feel that urge to end her anymore, even when she said right to his face that Despair was wrong. He locked his hands together, trying to stop them from trembling. _I’m scared of myself. I’m scared that it’s happening to me._

The guard beside Chiaki’s door was watching him, he suddenly realized. Staring straight ahead, back ramrod straight, but eyes flickering to look at Fuyuhiko out of the corners of his vision while staying desperately still and trying not to be noticed. Fuyuhiko stumbled away from him, backwards, his side bumping into the wall, and nearly lost his footing before straightening up to his full, imposing height of 5’1”. “The HELL are you looking at?!”

The guard seemed to realize how incredibly lethal it was to have seen Fuyuhiko in a moment of weakness. His eyes snapped to the front again. “Nothing, boss.”

“You think you saw something worth staring at, huh?” Fuyuhiko snarled, reaching for the small, single-shot pistol at the back of his waistband. “Think you fuckin’ saw anything?!” He pulled the pistol free and jammed it against the underside of the man’s chin.

He was standing right outside Chiaki’s room. _So what?_ She would hear the gunshot. _So what?!_

“I didn’t see anything, boss!” the guard repeated quickly.

They stood there for a moment, the gun digging painfully into Fuyuhiko’s shaking, white-knuckled hand.

Fuyuhiko grinned slowly and shoved the pistol back into his waistband. “Of course you didn’t. There was nothing to see. Right?”

“Right, boss,” said the guard, sagging backwards and baffled as to why he wasn’t dead right now. Fuyuhiko was already stalking away down the dark hallway.

His hands were still shaking. _Oh god, I need a hit of Despair._

\-------------------

Chiaki listened to the fight between Suzuki and Fuyuhiko -- not a fight, actually, more like Fuyuhiko snapping at the guard for some reason, and Suzuki begging for his life. She stared at her bedroom door with wide eyes and bated breath, her grip on the candle tight as she eavesdropped on their one way argument. 

Things got quiet for a moment, and the familiar _tap tap tap_ of Fuyuhiko’s shoes walking away from her bedroom door caused all of Chiaki’s adrenaline to leave her in a rush. However, that didn’t stop her from being worried about Fuyuhiko. Something was wrong. But Chiaki couldn't sneak out again. She promised.

(Also, since Fuyuhiko had barred her windows, that option was gone now anyway.)

When she was sure that Fuyuhiko would be out of hearing range, Chiaki went to the door and knocked. Suzuki opened it, just enough for her to see that he was shaken but not enough to see if anything was actually done to him. "Are you okay?"

Suzuki kept glancing nervously down the hallway. "Yeah,” he said shakily. “What did you _say_ to him?”

“I…” Chiaki paused, realizing that if Fuyuhiko was willing to kill someone for seeing the immediate results of said conversation, he definitely wouldn’t want anyone knowing what made him like that. Probably. 

“I don’t think I should tell you,” Chiaki said instead. “It’d be bad for your skin.”

Suzuki stared at her for a moment, and then that tense, worried look melted away as he snorted with laughter. “You’re probably right. Are _you_ okay? Do you need anything?”

Chiaki shook her head in response. 

"You should get back in there, then. The boss is probably gonna find a way to…" He shuddered. Chiaki had _just_ enough context clues to give her guard a horrified look in response. "Just stay in your room for a bit, yeah?"

Suzuki shut the door again, forcing Chiaki to take a step back. She stood there wordlessly, her worry growing. Fuyuhiko got his Despair from hurting the people he cared about. He had just said that hurting Kazuichi was pointless, and if he wanted to hurt Chiaki he would have done that while he was in her bedroom, which left…

"Oh no. _Peko._ "


	16. The Parasite Behind His Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Peko was played by Blueflame91, and Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko were played by RedPen.

Peko had made the egregious mistake of taking out the balled up rag that the Young Master had shoved into Kazuichi's mouth to replace it with a proper gag, and the Ultimate Fool had immediately started screaming again. It was like he was _trying_ to get himself killed.

"All this is going to accomplish is further irritation, Kazuichi," Peko stated bluntly, not bothering to raise her voice to talk over the prisoner’s hollering as she pulled out a bright white cloth. She’d set down the flashlight she’d been using as a light source, and it lay on the floor between them, shining a harsh white beam of light against one wall. "Fuyuhiko has been lenient with you so far, but it will not last forever. You may die here if you don't cooperate."

\-------------------

“Oh, lenient,” Kazuichi paused in his screaming to snap back at her. “This is what lenient looks like, huh? He shot me in the foot! I’m not sure how much more irritated he can get at me, actually! I think if anything can irritate him more than screaming FUCK DESPAIR at him repeatedly, I’d kinda incredibly like to know about it!”

Tied to a support beam, he wriggled in his bonds, which Peko had tied with absolutely no regard for his circulation or sexual pleasure. She could have at least been artistic about it, it was like she didn’t even care about keeping the knots symmetrical! “H-hey, if you wanna reveal your true colors to Fuyuhiko and like, officially side with us? Now would be a great time for that actually.”

\-------------------

Peko stared at Kazuichi for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve already discussed all of that with him, Kazuichi. Fuyuhiko knows _exactly_ where I stand now.”

\-------------------

“Yeah, I was screaming on the floor for that,” Kazuichi spat back. “That wasn’t a _discussion._ You guys didn’t _talk things out._ He just shut you down and didn’t listen to anything you said, and you shut up and let him. You’ve got power, Peko, he, like, gives a crap about your opinion! Are you ever gonna use that to stand up for us, or are you just gonna keep standing off to the side and watching while he goes around being a colossal bag of dicks? Because at this point you’re basically just NOT on our side and you’re kinda being a sucky ally!”

\-------------------

“He wouldn’t be a colossal bag of _anything_ if you and Chiaki had behaved yourselves,” Peko quipped back. Normally, she would have defended her master with fury and indignation, but she silently conceded that Fuyuhiko was, in fact, being a bag of dicks. However, it wasn’t as though Kazuichi was without fault. “It is his job as the oyabun of the Kuzuryu clan to maintain a certain image of power and authority. He cannot afford to allow that image to get walked all over, be it by friend or foe. Unfortunately, you and Chiaki have somehow managed to be both at the same time, and the Young Master is _attempting_ to show you some grace due to your history.”

\-------------------

 _“Grace,”_ Kazuichi snorted derisively.

\-------------------

Peko graciously ignored him. She mulled over the accusations lobbied against herself and her loyalties. “I made a point to warn the both of you from the beginning that if things came to blows, I would follow Fuyuhiko’s orders,” she started slowly. She still had a lot of conflicting feelings about how Fuyuhiko was intending on handling the rest of the clan, but she couldn’t just abandon him. “First and foremost, I am his. You were _both_ aware of this. I’m not going to purposefully disobey direct orders, for your sake or anyone else’s. Have I _ever_ given you the impression that I was on your side?”

\-------------------

Kazuichi gaped at her. “YES!!” he shouted. “Yes, I sorta assumed you were supposed to be on our side when Chiaki said you weren’t in Despair, and also when you didn’t immediately rat ME out for not being in Despair! That sorta seems like _not being on Fuyuhiko’s side,_ y’know? You think he’d LIKE hearing that, if I told him you knew and didn’t say anything? If he found out we were making plans behind his back to get him out of Despair, and you knew about it, and you _helped_ with it, and you kept it a secret?”

He scowled at her. “I guess you don’t care anymore, now that everybody’s crap is out in the open and you don’t have to keep secrets for us. You’re basically back on Team Despair.”

\-------------------

Peko opened her mouth to defend herself, but nothing came out. Her expression became pensive; Kazuichi, weirdly enough, had a point. Peko took a moment to process that she was in a universe where _that_ was a thing.

Co-conspiring with Kazuichi and Chiaki hadn’t really accomplished anything, up until the two of them released Kyoko Kirigiri. After that, Fuyuhiko had only become more controlling, quicker to anger, more paranoid about his own precarious position of power. Telling him the truth about her own lack of Despair had sent him spiraling into vehement denial, shutting her down and forbidding her from voicing her concerns. And allowing him to galavant and do as he pleased was going to, in the long run, result in either the destruction or enslavement of the Kuzuryu clan. And all the while, those fits of Despair were getting longer, and more frequent, and more violent.

She looked up at Kazuichi for a moment, conflict written all over her face. “You’re right.”

\-------------------

“Well screw you too, miss high-and-mighty!” Kazuichi snapped back. “Just ‘cause I’m low on the food chain doesn’t mean you can just blow me off like I’m stupid! I- wait, what’d you say? I’m right?”

His anger turned immediately to a smug grin. “Well, yeah, of course I’m right!”

\-------------------

Peko let out a huff -- give Kazuichi an inch and he’d certainly take a mile. “I’m not saying I’ll untie you. I’m just saying you’re right.”

\-------------------

“Okay, but if I’m right you SHOULD untie me! You’ve gotta stand up to Fuyuhiko! If you just keep letting him order you around and do whatever he wants without even saying anything, he’s not gonna get BETTER!”

Kazuichi sagged a bit against the post. “You don’t want him to be in Despair, right?”

\-------------------

“A tool does not want.” Peko said it automatically, an answer as rote as “two plus two is four,” and as ingrained as “good morning” and “good night.” 

\-------------------

Kazuichi raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, but you don’t want him to be in Despair, _right?_ ” he repeated.

\-------------------

Peko raised an eyebrow back at Kazuichi. “I am aware that something needs to be done, Kazuichi. However, I am also fairly certain that untying you isn’t it.”

\-------------------

“Yeah, but then he’d be mad at you instead of me,” said Kazuichi matter-of-factly. “But also, like, what if he tells you to kill me, huh? Are you just gonna do it, no questions asked? What about Chiaki, huh? You're just gonna kill Chiaki for him, even though you know what that’d do to him? You’re just gonna do whatever he tells you to, even if it hurts him? Is that ACTUALLY what you want? Don’t give me that ‘blah blah blah tool doesn’t want’ crap. If you never wanted anything then you wouldn’t have SAID anything to him while I was bleeding out on the floor!”

It wasn’t really that he cared all that much about Peko’s self worth, or actually curing Fuyuhiko’s Despair. But Kazuichi felt as though the world was being PHENOMENALLY UNFAIR by letting Peko continue to get away with this Swiss neutrality crap while he was suffering so much for picking a side.

\-------------------

This was all striking an… eerily familiar cord with Peko. Not necessarily who was saying it or why it was being said, but… the words themselves.

(“Grow a fuckin’ personality, my parents ain’t watching.”)

To _want things_. To make her opinions _known_. Could she…? Her brow furrowed, thoughts swirling in her head. 

_"He wouldn’t actually want this for the world, or for himself.”_ Chiaki had said that a couple weeks ago. Was that true?

What did Fuyuhiko actually want? 

And… what did _Peko_ want?

Peko realized she no longer had the option to remain neutral, or play double agent. She had to make a choice. _Now._

\-------------------

“Hey, thanks a bunch for helping out with that, by the way,” Kazuichi grumbled, oblivious to Peko’s existential crisis. “Just, like, watching him shoot me in the foot and then kick me repeatedly while I was down. I could have died, you know.” He was struggling against the ropes again. Maybe if he moved around enough he could loosen these shoddy knots? “But, seriously, why DID you say anything to him if you don’t even care? Just admit you’re totally into him and get over yourself.”

\-------------------

Peko was immediately pulled out of her thoughts and bristled at the insinuation that she was just doing all of this for… _those_ sorts of reasons. “Stop implying things that aren’t true.” Her face was red. She could feel the redness of her face and she did not like it, but she also couldn’t make it stop. Was it visible in the stark black and white lighting of the flashlight?

\-------------------

It was absolutely visible. Kazuichi grinned at her smugly. “Uh-huh,” he said.

\-------------------

“If Fuyuhiko had shot you with the intent to kill, you would be dead,” Peko said, changing the subject and looking Kazuichi in the eyes, acting like him saying those things didn’t get under her skin. “Likewise, you are alive because he wanted you to live.”

She glanced at the door of the room. Fuyuhiko said he was going to speak with Chiaki, but how long would that actually take? Would his discussion with her be equally dissatisfying as his earlier conversation with Kazuichi? Peko let out a soft sigh, letting her shoulders relax for a moment. “I am sorry for how I’ve treated you. I cannot change what has already been done, and I can’t free you. Not yet. You have already escaped once, and Fuyuhiko will be on the lookout for you to try again -- it will be a futile effort. I’m… not entirely sure what I can do for you right now, outside of preventing Fuyuhiko from going too far.”

\-------------------

“Too far was exactly one bullet ago,” Kazuichi complained. “He’s got a funny way of showing how dead he doesn’t want me. Maybe he wants me dead and he just CAN’T kill me ‘cause of all that stuff he said about how he’s weak now.” He grinned at her, all sharp teeth and self-satisfied hubris, completely not thinking through where this line of conversation would lead to. “Does he know I heard that too? _I’d_ want me dead if _I_ were him.”

\-------------------

Peko’s eyes turned sharp. She immediately withdrew her sword and pointed the blade at Kazuichi’s neck, forcing his chin up to meet her eyes. “The Young Master is _not_ weak and you will not say such things.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi’s grin vanished with a shaky little gasp as the sword gracefully whipped around to point at his throat. His wide eyes met Peko’s with a sort of nervous terror, and something in his head tried to continue the conversation with: _He IS weak! He’s totally completely weak! ‘Cause I’M weak and if he was STRONG he wouldn’t be scared of turning into ME, right!!_ With effort he bit back the words. _He totally shoved me in a basement and forgot about me! He barely even tried to question me! He’s scared!! He’s scared of Kazuichi Soda, of course he’s frikkin’ WEAK!!_ A whiny little noise escaped his throat, but he would NOT say what he was thinking and give her an excuse to crush his windpipe. _He’s weak and so are you, ‘cause you answer to him!! Why don’t you stop threatening me with that sword and actually hit me with it! Hit me hit me hit me hit me hit me-_

“H-his words!!” he managed, finally. “His words, not mine!! His words!!!”

\-------------------

“And I disagreed with him then,” she stated bluntly, narrowing her eyes. She removed the sword from his neck, deciding that he was just spouting things without thinking and that this wasn’t worth the effort. “Think before you speak.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi’s eyes followed the sword hungrily as she withdrew. “I always think before I speak! Like I’ve been thinking for ten minutes now, wow gee, I sure wish Peko would FRIGGIN UNTIE ME!”

The needy static of Despair prickled at the back of his mind. His lower body squirmed miserably, and he finally tore his gaze away from the sword she probably wasn’t going to hit him with and gave Peko his best puppy eyes, trying and failing not to sound desperate. “You wanna know what you can do for me right now? Untie me. Like, a little bit, maybe? Peko I can’t reach my pocket junk.”

\-------------------

“Your ‘pocket junk’ destroyed the entirety of the downstairs holding facilities,” Peko stated bluntly. “Until you can use your pocket junk responsibly, this is the solution.”

\-------------------

“See, you’re using the word destroyed, but I would actually call it improved? I improved them. I made them better.” He struggled in vain for a moment. “Peko I’m dying. He doesn’t want me dead, Peko, but you’re killing meeeeee.”

\-------------------

“You’re fine,” Peko said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Kazuichi’s antics. “I’m sure your lack of pocket junk won’t kill you. You can sit still for a little while.”

\-------------------

“Peko,” said Kazuichi, definitely not begging, “Peko I know you don’t care but like, I have, y’know, ONE healthy coping mechanism and it’s taking stuff apart and putting it back together again, and this has been a VERY STRESSFUL SITUATION FOR ME? And maybe the LEAST you could do, not even as, like, a friend or an ally or anything, the least you could do as my guard, you know, would be to untie, like, one hand, so I can mess with my paperclips? One hand, Peko. This is inhumane treatment. This is probably a war crime, Peko.”

\-------------------

“I’m pretty sure the things you have taken apart while here thus far have either been parts of the Young Master’s home or the majority of his topiaries,” she said frankly. “I understand your need to build, but there comes a point where it gets destructive. Before we can give you the opportunity to fidget with your ‘pocket junk’, you need to control that aspect of it.”

\-------------------

“That’s not fair! You basically put me in an empty room, the house is all I had to take apart! Maybe if you’d locked me in with a car or something, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the dark ‘cause I got creative with Fuyuhiko’s fusebox!” A pause. “Which I didn’t do! That still could have been anybody!”

He finally stopped thrashing around and sagged into the ropes, which weren’t getting any looser. Okay. So he grudgingly admitted that she knew how to tie a knot, even if it was an ugly knot. “If I’m not taking stuff apart I’m just lying around in an empty room thinking about how much my foot hurts. Which is, uh, a whole FREAKING LOT, by the way. You want me to have self control? I can do that for Despair or for your house, but you gotta pick one.” He whined miserably at the back of his throat. “ _One_ paperclip.”

\-------------------

Peko thought for a moment; Fuyuhiko _wanted_ Kazuichi to slip back into Despair. The whole point of shooting him and locking him in the basement was to wait for him to break. But Chiaki would be absolutely _devastated_ if Kazuichi broke after several weeks of supposed hard work, and Fuyuhiko would most definitely _not_ improve if he had another Remnant around, actively revelling in Despair. Even if it was just Kazuichi. 

Peko sighed heavily, before kneeling down and sticking her hand in Kazuichi’s pocket, feeling around for a paperclip. She found one, grabbed it, and stood up, holding it in front of his face.

“If you try to use this to untie the rope, I _will_ take it and the rest of your ‘pocket junk’ away from you,” Peko offered, giving Kazuichi the opportunity to think about it. “Deal?”

\-------------------

“Deal!” Kazuichi said eagerly, without even thinking about it.

\-------------------

With another sigh, Peko leaned around Kazuichi and pressed the paperclip into one of his hands, where they were tied together behind the beam. She stood at his side so that she could see what he did with it, just in case. “Happy?”

\-------------------

“No,” said Kazuichi. “I’m tied up and also I got shot in the foot. Why would I be happy?” Still, his hand began the automatic motions of fiddling with the paperclip, randomly twisting and bending the bits of metal that would bend, and his shoulders relaxed as the litany in his head of provocative things to say that would definitely make Peko whack him with a sword died down, along with the static. His breathing evened. It was amazing how calming it could be, just having something in his hands to mess around with.

“So, uh… about untying me?”

\-------------------

“Still no, Kazuichi.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi considered his bargaining position, which was Bad, and what he had to offer, which was Nothing, and with eternal optimism decided to haggle with, “ _Two_ paperclips?”

And then he went white as footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, the unmistakable clicking of those stupid, hard-soled, European style indoor shoes that Fuyuhiko seemed to think made him look rich and tasteful. In a panic, he tried one-handedly to hide the paperclip up his sleeve. “Oh crap. Oh crap, the lights aren’t back yet, do you think he’s mad about the lights? Or… or, crap, the whole, screaming ‘fuck Despair’ right to his face thing? Which thing do you think he’s madder about? M-maybe talking to Chiaki made him chill out? It probably chilled him out, right? ‘Cause he’s walking REALLY FAST for someone who totally chilled out already!!”

\-------------------

Those did _not_ sound like the footsteps of a calm Fuyuhiko, even if his… stature caused him to have a quicker stride than most.

Peko decided that this was an excellent time to put the gag in Kazuichi’s mouth. 

She whispered quietly as she tied it: “I know you have no reason to, but I need you to trust me. Also, I need to take the paper clip back so the Young Master doesn’t get angrier.” She quickly took the paperclip out of Kazuichi’s hand (she had to tug at it fairly forcefully; Kazuichi’s grip was firm and desperate, but in the end, being perpetually covered in grease was to his disadvantage) and tucked it into her shirt -- no use shoving it back in his pocket, the Young Master was too close and that was _not_ a position either of them wanted to be caught in when he opened the door, for several reasons.

She then stood at attention next to Kazuichi, her heart beginning to rabbit in her chest. This was it. It was now or never. She couldn’t stand idly by anymore.

 _You could die here,_ whispered a soft, vaguely familiar voice in the back of her head, urging her not to make the choice. _You can’t protect him if you’re DEAD._

 _Death by the Young Master’s hand is an honorable one,_ Peko said back, face neutral and eyes towards the door. _If I am to die, so be it._

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko froze outside the door, his hand outstretched and his fingers barely touching the handle. His hand was still shaking. He was breathing too heavily. God, he was a mess, why was he suddenly such a mess? Why did it _matter_ to him that he didn’t want Peko to see him this way?

Fuyuhiko took a deep breath, arms at his sides, and clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, trying to still the shaking. It didn’t matter what Peko saw. It didn’t matter what Peko thought. It was still no excuse to be sloppy.

“Dammit,” he whispered, and gritting his teeth he threw open the door. White light spilled out into the blackness of the hallway.

Kazuichi’s gag had been changed. The dirty rag Fuyuhiko had shoved into his mouth earlier was lying on the floor, a tiny scrap of cloth casting a too-long shadow where the flashlight’s beam shone across it. Peko had swapped it out for a clean one. Fuyuhiko’s brain registered that only incidentally: a weird, random detail that just happened to stand out. It could have been anything, really, but he immediately latched on to it as a Thing To Have A Fight About.

“Who the hell told you to take out his gag?” he growled, slamming the door behind him. “What, were you having a nice little conversation with each other? What the FUCK do you two have to talk about?”

\-------------------

Peko avoided flinching as Fuyuhiko noticed the gag had changed. The only sign of tension in her was the slow release of air through her nostrils -- her body barely moved, her expression remained stoic. 

“I removed the cloth to replace it with a proper gag so that he would not attempt to swallow or spit out the previous one,” she answered plainly, not expanding on the topic without further prompting. Fuyuhiko seemed… off. The kind of off she had warned Chiaki about. “We spoke about our loyalties, in your absence. I apologize for the lack of promptness in keeping Kazuichi quiet.”

\-------------------

 _That’s fine, not like he was still screaming,_ Fuyuhiko almost said, automatically, in reaction to her apology. And that, too, terrified him. He came here for a fight, he couldn’t just accept her explanation and brush it off! When had that become an instinct? How often had he been doing that?! Fuyuhiko’s breath quickened further, his hands balling into fists.

“Did I _order_ you to question his loyalties?”

\-------------------

“No, Master,” Peko remained calm and neutral. Calm and neutral got this sort of thing done quickly. “He initiated the conversation. I apologize for allowing it to continue.”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” said Fuyuhiko. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you to do that. I don’t know where you got it into your head that you got the right to take goddamn initiative.” 

_If you didn’t, I couldn’t trust you with anything. If you didn’t, this place would fall apart, and we both know it, so we also both know what this fight is really for._ That familiar tar was churning hot and heavy and nauseating in his gut, but it was fine. He just had to push through until it turned to pleasure. He stepped towards her, scowling, daring her to flinch back. One of his feet knocked against the flashlight, sending it spinning across the floor.

“You think the _rope_ woulda decided he needed a different gag? You think the _gag_ mighta had a conversation with him? You see the problem here, Peko? You see the goddamn contradiction?”

\-------------------

Peko did not flinch, because she had trained literally her entire life not to. She let another slow, quiet breath out of her nose, keeping her eyes on Fuyuhiko as he approached. “I understand, Young Master.”

It was now or never. Life or death. She had already decided, weeks ago, that she would walk through fire to see him smile like he used to. 

It was time to put her money where her mouth was. 

“However, I am not an object.”

\-------------------

The flashlight spun. The beam of it whipped around the room for a moment, a dizzying strobe light of black and white and black and white and black, until it struck the far wall and rattled suddenly to a stop, a spotlight backlighting Peko, outlining her silhouette in a thin line of white.

Standing in her shadow, Fuyuhiko stared at her wordlessly.

What?

That… that was wrong. That wasn’t in the script, that wasn’t how this interaction was supposed to go. Fuyuhiko’s mind went blank for a moment, the floor dropping out from under his feet. Of… of course she wasn’t an object. If she was an object, then it wouldn’t _hurt_ so much to call her one. But she’d always, always just stood there and taken it. Because she knew he needed it. Because they both needed it!

 _Why do I not experience Despair when I am punished,_ she’d said. _Why do the things that hurt me bring me grief instead of joy?_

( _She doesn’t like being hurt._ )

The tar twisted sickly, and did not blossom into euphoria. “You-” he said, faintly, and had to stop because apparently he’d forgotten how to breathe. At least the darkness was obscuring his face. At least she couldn’t see. _Why do I care? What’s wrong with me?_

Anger laced through the nausea and the panic. Anger at Peko, for picking the _worst possible goddamn moment_ to assert her humanity. _Why the hell are you doing this NOW?!_

“You’re a fuckin’ tool, Peko,” he said, pouring fury into his voice. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course you’re an object!”

\-------------------

She kept her face immovable, but if you looked closely you could see the cracks -- the tension in her shoulders, the fear in her eyes, the twitching of her fingers behind her back while resisting the fight-or-flight desire to take out her sword. But she didn’t fold -- she _had_ to do this. Whether she wanted to or not.

Whether _Fuyuhiko_ wanted to or not.

“As you stated earlier, objects do not take initiative, Young Master. I do. Therefore, it is logical to come to the conclusion that I am not an object.”

\-------------------

“Objects also don’t fuckin’ talk back,” Fuyuhiko said, stepping forward again, putting them so close together that he had to crane his neck to meet her eyes. “You think that’s a good thing? You think that’s something to be _proud_ of? Or are you just an object that’s doing a real fuckin’ terrible job of being an object? ‘Cause we have a word for that, Peko. _Broken_. A shitty, broken tool. Is that what you are?”

\-------------------

Peko’s expression faltered -- slightly. She schooled it back to neutral as quickly as it changed, but there was no way Fuyuhiko didn’t catch it. Not when he was so close. But she continued anyway. 

“No, Young Master.” She started, maintaining eye contact. “I am, as you once put it, a fucking human being.”

\-------------------

 _Yes!!_ something deep within Fuyuhiko screamed, a rabid, fanatic cheerleader who’d been desperately rooting for this for YEARS. _Yes!! Yes you fuckin’ are!! Peko, you’re human!! You said it!! You actually said it!!_

 _NO,_ Despair screamed over it, drowning it out. _No, no NO!! Hurt it! Kill it! Crush it! Destroy that light of rebellion in her eyes!!_

It was again that dissonance. Two emotions at once, at war with each other, fighting tooth and claw and tearing each other apart. The feeling set off an intense, visceral fear in him. He was spiraling, and not towards Despair, he was losing himself, he was turning into something that terrified him, he couldn’t AFFORD to whoop and cheer and embrace her over this, he _had to kill it._

“Some people,” he said, his voice acid, “only exist to be tools. I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ _taxonomy._ Did you forget what the hell you exist on this world to do? …Oh. I remember. It was ‘die squalling in a dumpster.’ _That_ was the purpose of the human Peko Pekoyama.” He leaned in even closer, straining on tiptoe to bring their faces closer together, his eyes as dark and empty as that tar writhing in his stomach. “The Kuzuryu Clan saved you from that, you thankless, freeloading bitch.”

\-------------------

"My _purpose,_ " Peko started firmly, her eyes never leaving his even as he invaded her space, "is to protect you, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, from all dangers. Including yourself, your Despair, and the fact that you are so distracted by it that the men have stopped giving a shit and _I’ve_ had to pick up _your_ slack to make up for it.”

She hadn’t meant to say that. Unfortunately, though, she had. And it wasn’t until after the words had left her mouth that the emotion behind them finally surfaced. Anger. Peko was... _angry._

\-------------------

He hadn’t expected her to talk back. She wasn’t _supposed_ to talk back, she was supposed to stand there meekly and take it. Fuyuhiko, still standing far, far too close to her, took an involuntary step backwards. He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He stared.

\-------------------

“And honestly, can you blame the men for not giving a shit?” Peko continued. The words kept coming, and she couldn’t seem to stop them. They came out sounding like Fuyuhiko, maybe because Peko had never _emoted_ before, and her greatest example of _how to be angry_ had always been Fuyuhiko himself.

“ _You_ clearly don’t care about any of them! You kill them for telling you bad news, _which is their job,_ and then get pissed when you don’t find out about, oh, I don’t know, Chiaki’s left shoe randomly being found in the second foyer until thirty minutes after the fact? Or the fact that fucking Kyoko Kirigiri was missing until the house had already been frantically searching for her for over an _hour_?!” Peko was fuming, feeling emotions she’d never been allowed to feel before. She adjusted her posture and tossed her hair behind her shoulder, no longer polite and proper and submissive, but aggressive.

“And of course, you already _know_ this is a problem, don’t you? But instead of actually _dealing_ with it, you resort to getting help from _Nagito_ of all people?! What the hell kind of yakuza has to rely on brainwashing their men in order to make them listen to their goddamn oyabun? I had assumed ‘not this one’ until you revealed _that_ bullshit!”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko stood there flabbergasted as Peko shouted at him, her words washing over him, her voice rising in volume and intensity and anger the longer she spoke. He had no idea how to respond to this. She’d never done this before. She couldn’t talk to him like this, could she?

Apparently, she could.

His mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, and then he finally found his voice again, a wave of anger rising in him. He screamed back at her, his volume matching hers. “What the _fuck_ makes you think you have the right to talk like that to me?!”

\-------------------

“Because I’m the only one around here doing your GODDAMN JOB!” Peko snapped back, her voice pitching up at the end into a furious screech that she hadn’t even been aware her voice could do. “Tell me, Fuyuhiko, who was the one who noticed Chiaki’s guards were missing, and offered to fix the problem instead of actively using it to get high on your Pain Juice? Oh, also, who was the guard who let Kyoko Kirigiri go? Do you know the names of any of your fucking men? No? You want to know who has gone out of her way to learn them for the past three weeks? _Chiaki fucking Nanami._ Why is it that the girl who’s been here for _three weeks_ has more of your men’s names memorized that you seem to?!”

“And speaking of guards, when was the last time you checked on your staff to see if they were keeping Chiaki occupied so she doesn’t lose her goddamn mind with worry and try to do something crazy again? And why the fuck, while knowing how fidgety and annoying he gets when left unattended, did you not assign a guard to Kazuichi's cell? Or at least put a guard at the goddamn desk, that’s the whole fucking reason we _have_ that fucking desk!”

\-------------------

“Oh, get the FUCK off your high horse, Peko Pekoyama,” Fuyuhiko barked back at her. “And don’t pretend you’ve got one more goddamn iota of the clan’s respect than I do! If you’re the one doing my goddamn job, then you’re the one fuckin’ failing at it! Why the fuck should I learn the names of a bunch of lazy, disrespectful bastards who-”

\-------------------

“Don’t you DARE,” Peko snarled, cutting him off. “Call _your_ men -- who have been more loyal to you than you fucking _deserve_ \-- lazy and disrespectful for wanting to stay alive long enough to see you get your head out of your ass. Don’t you _dare_ say that the girl who was raised her whole life to be nothing but a fucking _object_ is failing at doing her Master’s job when it’s not her job to be doing in the first place! And don’t you dare say that these men don’t respect me, because they _do._ If not for the fact that I actually attempt to listen if there’s an issue, then they respect me for the fact that if they _are_ lazy pieces of shit, I’ll certainly take their punishment for them. Isn’t that right?”

The question was entirely rhetorical; Peko and Fuyuhiko both knew the answer already. 

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko clenched his fists, riding that wave of anger. “I punish you when you _fuckin’ earn it!_ ”

\-------------------

“No you fucking don’t,” Peko said callously. “You punish me to get high, and then forget about punishing the people who are actually at fault because you’re too goddamn high to remember that there was a fucking issue in the first place. Isn’t that why you came in here, just now?” Peko narrowed her eyes, intense and indignant, as if daring him to contradict her. “To punish me for making sure Kazuichi didn’t have a fucking choking hazard in his mouth? Tell me, when was the last time you punished me for something that was _actually_ my fault, and not an excuse you came up with because you needed a fix?”

\-------------------

He needed a fix now. Dear _god_ he needed a fix now, his brain _itched_ for it, why the hell was this happening?

“If I need a fix,” Fuyuhiko snapped, “Then it is your fuckin’ job to give me my goddamn fix. You are a _tool,_ you do not _get_ to be _judgey_ about my fuckin’ priorities!”

\-------------------

“As I’ve stated before,” said Peko icily, “I’m a human being. And not only a human being, but as a member of this clan, since you and your parents turned me into your own personal freeloading bitch, I think I have the right to be pretty goddamn judgey about your priorities. I’m getting pretty sick and tired of watching you run your clan into the goddamn ground for the sake of your Despair.”

\-------------------

“I am not running this clan into the goddamn ground!” he screamed at her, his entire body tense and shaking. “I am the Ultimate Yakuza, I was scouted out by Hope’s Peak Academy as the best fuckin’ crime lord in the world, and the Kuzuryu Clan aughtta feel fuckin’ _honored_ that I give enough of a shit to take time out of my global terrorism to tell them what to do!”

\-------------------

“Why has Chiaki been wearing the same outfit for three weeks?” Peko asked coldly.

\-------------------

“She… what?” said Fuyuhiko, his mental gears grinding to a stop and then hurriedly shifting to follow the sudden change of subject.

\-------------------

“You heard me,” Peko quipped. “Why has Chiaki been wearing the same outfit for three weeks? Surely you meant to provide more clothes for her at some point. She’s been living here for three weeks, so where are those clothes? Why wasn’t she provided a pair of indoor shoes so that she didn’t track dirt from outside all over the house?”

\-------------------

“I was going to-” Fuyuhiko began, blankly.

\-------------------

“Well, you didn’t,” Peko snapped, cutting Fuyuhiko off. “Either you didn’t care enough to notice in the first place, or you _did_ notice and then got _high,_ and forgot. Just like you didn’t notice her guards were missing during the riots until _I_ pointed it out. Why is it you never seem to know where your men are or what they’re supposed to be doing?”

\-------------------

“I told you, they’re disrespectful little shits who shirk their posts, it’s not _my_ fuckin’ fault that they-”

\-------------------

“You think an _‘it’s not my fault’_ would have cut it if Kazuichi had walked into Chiaki’s room and bashed her head in?” Peko said simply, parroting his own words back at him. “And speaking of Kazuichi, how did you not know he was sleeping in our front yard for a week?”

\-------------------

“I-” Fuyuhiko started to say, and was steamrolled over as Peko continued to lay out an itemized list of his mistakes.

\-------------------

“What did Kyoko steal from you?” Peko continued, ignoring Fuyuhiko’s attempts at self-defense. “Did you ever find out? And don’t say that you would have tortured it out of her and now you can’t, you and I both know the torture was just petty revenge for ruining your day trip with Chiaki. There are other ways for you to find out. Or there _were,_ I should say, because any evidence she might have left behind was surely destroyed along with the rest of your office during the _tantrum_ you threw after she escaped.”

\-------------------

“That wasn’t a _tantrum,_ that was-”

\-------------------

“Despair?” Peko cut him off again, her voice sharp and even. “Of course it was. Speaking of Despair, remember when I brought up that I was concerned about _not_ being in Despair? Because I certainly do. Was it not your duty to _do_ something about that? I confessed to something like blatant treason, and you responded with the emotional equivalent of covering your ears and telling me you couldn’t hear me.”

He’d backed away. Peko stepped forward, keeping them uncomfortably close together. The flashlight glared brilliantly behind her.

“And _all of that,_ ” she finished coldly, “From something as big as the men openly, blatantly disrespecting you to something as small as Chiaki’s lack of clothing, stems from your increasing, deliberate disregard for _anything_ that has to do with your Ultimate talent. Where is your sense of hospitality?! Your attention to detail that you've always been so well known for?! What happened to the oyabun I once followed, who was _responsible, competent,_ who _cared_ about the Kuzuryu Clan?!”

Peko narrowed her eyes at Fuyuhiko as he stared up at her, eye wide with shock. It was liberating to speak her mind for once, even if it was terrifying in its eventual consequence. But she was already laying all of her cards on the table. She wasn’t going to let something as inconsequential as fear prevent her from finally _talking_ about this. Fuyuhiko needed to hear it. And, apparently, Peko needed to be heard.

“Where is the Ultimate Yakuza, Fuyuhiko?”

\-------------------

He stood there in silence. There was nothing he could say. She was absolutely right, every word of it, and each word stabbed him like a knife.

Some part of him, something intrinsic and important, something vital to his talent, was slowly suffocating under Despair. It had been dying a slow, painful death for years. If Hope’s Peak Academy had scouted him now, they would have found nothing Ultimate about him - just a sloppy, careless, barely controlled ball of anger and instinct poorly hidden beneath the veneer of snappy clothing and clever wording and powerful posture that he’d cultivated to give the stereotypical impression of the competent leader he wasn’t anymore.

“I…” he murmured, the word faltering in his mouth. “I’ve been…” Busy? Exhausted? Shot in the goddamn shoulder? Panicking so much about all this I can’t concentrate? Ineffectual? Useless? Failing? Obviously, shamefully failing?

_But that doesn’t matter! I have Despair! If the Kuzuryu Clan crumbles around me, I can just laugh as I dance through the ashes. I never wanted to inherit my family’s shitshow, I wanted to build it on my own! This is what I made! This broken, meaningless world! I created this with my own two hands! Of course I’ve been ignoring the Kuzuryu Clan to bask in it!_

The words echoed hollowly in his head, like someone else was saying them. His heart was beating too fast, his blood roaring in his ears. His face was hot. That familiar shame overwhelmed him.

\-------------------

“You're _better_ than this,” Peko stated quietly, sounding frustrated on Fuyuhiko’s behalf. Her brows were furrowed, and she flexed her hands repeatedly. She didn’t know what to do with this feeling now that her grievances had been said, so she kept talking. “My duty is to you. You are my priority. If I am no longer your tool, then so be it. But I will not lose my oyabun to this. And if you have to punish me, if that means I’ll die in a trash heap as I was destined to as a baby, then I will.”

“But I will not stand idly by anymore and say nothing while you sink further into Despair for the sake of a long dead, violent, childish _psychopath_ \--” She spat the word out, as if it were a poison in her mouth to be extracted. “-- who had nothing but your eventual ruin in mind!”

\-------------------

The world turned to static.

The fit of Despair hit him suddenly. Slammed into him like a wall, that ocean rising, boiling and acid, to scour the shame away. Despair, coppery and electric like blood in his mouth, fingernails screeching as they gouged out deep gashes in the chalkboard of his brain, his vision going black around the edges, his world funneling down and down into that sharp pinprick of _hurt her hurt yourself hurt the world hurt everything._

“I… won’t let you talk about Her that way,” he hissed, Her eye rolling in his head. “The… the fuck do you get off, talking about Her. The FUCK do you get off, you fuckin’ useless-ass broken-ass piece of shit?!” He was shaking, so much that he couldn’t hide it, and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying desperately to hold himself together. Fuyuhiko’s own fingernails dug into his sleeves, his mouth splitting into a cold, wild grin. “S-shut up, shut up, thankless _bitch,_ talking about Her with your whore mouth, She was a GOD-”

\-------------------

Peko stood her ground. “She’s _dead,_ ” she said bluntly, looking Fuyuhiko in the eye. “And the only reason you care about her at all is because she brainwashed you.”

\-------------------

“She gave us a _gift._ She showed us what the world could be, what we could _make_ it. She. Was. A. God. And you’re the child who should have died when it was thrown out with the trash.”

He’d forgotten there was a gun in his waistband. Now there wasn’t, it was in his hands, pointing at a spot between Peko’s eyes. Fuyuhiko stared at it, unfocused. “Do you want want me to put you the fuck back?”

\-------------------

“No,” Peko stated bluntly, not flinching at the sight of the gun in her face. “I don’t. I want _you_ back.”

\-------------------

And he felt that terrifying, unknowable _thing_ clawing up from the depths of him, fighting its way upwards through the tarlike layers of Despair he kept desperately trying to smother it with. That thing filling him with shame, making his hands shake and his heart race. That weak, wretched, pitiful creature that couldn’t kill Chiaki Nanami; couldn’t even bring a knife down to sever her finger. That disquieting parasite eating away at him, changing him, sliding into his skin and hiding behind his eyes.

It was Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu.

He stared at her over the pistol he’d shoved in her face. Her gaze was unwavering, looking not at him, but at that thing behind his eyes.

“I’m right here,” the thing said faintly.

Panic rose in him. He had to kill it, he couldn’t let it surface, he’d kept it buried for so long-

“Peko,” he said, his voice shaky, “Take the gun.”

\-------------------

Peko took the gun. 

She turned on the safety and chucked it across the room with one hand, and grabbed Fuyuhiko’s wrist with another, pulling him in and holding him, with one hand, then two, then two arms, and then her whole body. Hugging each other for the first time since they were children, Peko held on. 

She’d keep holding on.

“I’m right here, too.”

\-------------------

A wail welled up in Fuyuhiko’s throat, and his shaking melted at last into wracking sobs, folded into Peko’s chest, her arms wrapped tightly and protectively around him. He clutched her shirt, a gasping, keening mess. Despair roiled in him, trying to drag him under, euphoria and pain still racing through his head. _Hurt her hurt yourself hurt the world hurt everything hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt-_ Mentally, he slammed himself against it. Again and again, forcing it back bit by writhing, screaming bit. It ripped and tore and clawed at him, a burning itch in his brain, want need hurt _hurt HURT-_

 _NO,_ he thought, and he slammed it behind that dam in his head, the very prison it had built to trap everything good and decent and worthy of forgiveness about Fuyuhiko.

Still gripping Peko tightly, he sagged against her, his breath still hitching in convulsive sobs. He was so proud of her. He was so _goddamn fucking proud of her._

\-------------------

Peko held onto Fuyuhiko for what seemed like forever, her vision swimming with tears -- honestly, it had been so long since she had cried, she had forgotten she even could. She let Fuyuhiko hold onto her and be held, let him cry on her shoulder, let his emotions out like he so desperately needed to. 

Things settled eventually, and Peko reluctantly loosened her grip -- a physical askance, giving Fuyuhiko the choice to back away if he desired. To go get his gun, to recenter himself, to discuss what happens now in his own space. 

“Are…” Peko started, the charged emotions in the room draining away and leaving what felt like an awkward, wide gap between the two of them. “Are you alright?”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko hiccuped softly, still slumped against her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve been fuckin’ alright in years,” he said, dazedly, and then: “What the hell have I been doing?”

The question was rhetorical; Peko had just finished listing out pretty blatantly what the hell he’d been doing. What he meant was, _why the hell have I been doing it?_ He blinked. “Christ, what the _fuck_ is wrong with me?!”

\-------------------

Peko released a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding, feeling herself relax slightly. She felt conflicted -- it was almost instinctive, to want to comfort Fuyuhiko right now. However, she wasn’t exactly sure how to go about doing that. She had gotten so used to Fuyuhiko reacting to everything with _violence_ that him expressing his emotions in other ways was throwing her for a loop. 

However, on top of all that, was an inkling of a familiar feeling that Peko hadn’t felt in years. Was this… was this what Hope was?

“Uhm,” Peko said. “Despair, mostly.”

If Peko could kick herself, she would. Handling tears was not her forte.

\-------------------

“Well fuck, let’s not do _that_ anymore,” said Fuyuhiko.

\-------------------

Peko felt, suddenly, as though she’d used up her entire allotment of emotions on being furious at him. She stood there blankly, her mind reeling, not sure if she should hug him tighter or let him go, utterly nonplussed at how to respond to that.

After everything, it seemed like they were both human, after all.

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko took an awkward step back, suddenly aware of how much of a mess he must look. He’d left a smear of tears and snot on her white suit. “Uh,” he said, scrubbing his face on his sleeve. “So.” He ran a hand across his short crop of hair, avoiding meeting her eyes. “Ahem. Well. I guess… we should, uh…”

A long and uncomfortable silence. How exactly did you make up for being such a colossal, unforgivable _dick_ for all those years? You didn’t, he realized. You couldn’t. You just moved on. “I, uh… I should have listened when you called me out on this shit the first time,” he said. “You’re right. I’m letting things fall apart around here.”

\-------------------

Peko restarted from her emotional blue screening and quietly wiped her own tears as Fuyuhiko spoke, getting the remaining tears out and smiling softly at him. “Perhaps we should fix that then,” she stated plainly. “If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion --”

She looked over at Kazuichi, who had been pressing his back to the support beam as if trying to phase through it, quietly shitting himself this entire time. “Maybe we should start by getting the Ultimate Mechanic to fix the things he broke. With a guard supervising.”

\-------------------

“Oh _fucking hell,_ ” said Fuyuhiko, who’d been so focused on his existential crisis that he’d forgotten Kazuichi existed.

Kazuichi made a weak, I-am-definitely-going-to-die-now sound, which rose in pitch like a theremin as Fuyuhiko stalked over to him. He flinched and closed his eyes, and remained that way even after Fuyuhiko had untied him. “Kazuichi,” said Fuyuhiko, exhaustedly.

“I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I completely zoned out and I don’t even know who either of you are,” said Kazuichi.

“Great, but go fix my fuckin’ fusebox,” said Fuyuhiko.


	17. We Did It!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91, and Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi were played by RedPen.

The power was back on. It was barely a blip on Chiaki’s radar, her guilty conscience still tearing through her as her lights and consoles flickered on again. The house had long since gone quiet, but she’d heard screaming downstairs, earlier. Peko and Fuyuhiko’s voices, made muffled and incomprehensible as they echoed through the house.

She kept thinking back to Peko warning her about Fuyuhiko’s Despair being targeted towards those he cared about, and feeling so _stupid_ for not immediately realizing that Peko was most likely the one that took the brunt of it. Chiaki took a deep breath and continued pacing as she tried to think of another way to get out of her now-lit bedroom; she had already tried to convince Suzuki to let her out, but ended up giving up on that pretty quickly. Logically, she had already known he wasn’t going to let her out. She couldn’t exactly fault him for wanting to follow his orders and keep Chiaki safe, especially after Fuyuhiko had threatened him like that. 

She stopped pacing and stared at her window and the bars attached to it, as if doing so would suddenly give her another way to get out of here and stop whatever it was Fuyuhiko did when he _tried_ to hurt people. Unfortunately, she wasn’t like Kazuichi -- she couldn’t work miracles with nothing but paperclips and a hundred yen coin. She had to make due with the fact that she’d actually need tools to get the bars off, and the people who had installed it made sure not to leave anything like that behind. 

Chiaki closed her eyes and took another deep breath. She could figure this out. She just… needed a little bit longer. _Hang on, Peko._

\-------------------

Outside the room, Fuyuhiko’s staccato footsteps made their way back down the hallway. A low conversation with the guard outside her door, and then Fuyuhiko opened it and stuck his head inside. His singular eye was rimmed in red, like he’d been crying.

“Alright, you did your time. You’re ungrounded.”

With absolutely no further explanation, the door clicked shut again.

\-------------------

Chiaki stared at the door for a second, wondering if that had been a hallucination or not. When she walked to the door and opened it, Suzuki was just… gone. For the first time in a week, her door was unguarded.

Fuyuhiko was walking away and not looking back, hunched into himself as though he were deep in thought. Dread and panic twisted in Chiaki’s stomach as she stood in her doorway watching Fuyuhiko’s back. She couldn’t just… let him walk away. She couldn’t let this continue any longer. She had to force him to listen. (She needed to know if Peko was okay.)

“Fuyuhiko, wait!” Chiaki called out, taking a couple steps out of her room before she was jogging after him. She caught up to him quicker than she meant to (Fuyuhiko hadn’t gotten that far away yet, due to his tiny tiny legs) and she didn’t have the right words lined up in her head when she grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face her. 

There was an awkward silence. Chiaki felt a pinching sensation in the palms of her trembling hands, and she looked down to see her fingernails digging into them. Oh. Oops. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly unfurling her fingers and tucking her hands into her jacket pockets, out of Fuyuhiko’s sight. She couldn’t afford to let Fuyuhiko see her panic, that would either freak him out or send him spiraling.

“Uhm, do you know where Peko is?” she asked. “I heard you guys yelling and… is she okay?” 

\-------------------

The blank look Fuyuhiko gave her was not encouraging. He stood there motionlessly, his tired gaze flickering over her uncertainly. Glancing down at her arms, where the sleeves of her hoodie covered slowly fading bruises in the shape of his fingers.

He also did not have the words for this yet. He had no idea how to even _begin_ this conversation. Making things right with Chiaki felt like a vast, impassable chasm, and right now he felt far too emotionally drained to face it.

But Chiaki was standing there, staring at him worriedly, her hands fidgeting with each other and with the hem of her hoodie, and it seemed suddenly like a reminder from the universe that he was not owed any more time to process things.

“Figures you would have heard that,” he said, looking away from her and sticking his hands in his pockets, his voice a little raspy from all the screaming and sobbing earlier. “Peko’s fine.”

\-------------------

Chiaki kept her eyes on Fuyuhiko’s face as he looked away. Her nerves were still on edge, but now that she was actually _looking_ at him, he looked… tired. And sad. ( _Sad because he just did something really bad to Peko?_ came the worried, panicky thought, which she determinedly swallowed down.)

“Are _you_ okay?” she asked softly, her brows furrowing in concern.

\-------------------

“I, ah… yeah,” said Fuyuhiko, distantly. “Yeah, actually. I am.” He took a deep breath and looked back at her, trying to pull himself up by his mental bootstraps and stop looking as tired and out of it as he felt. “I’m fine,” he said, more firmly, putting that familiar note of authority back into his voice. “All that screaming earlier probably sounded worse than it actually was. We’re a yakuza clan, we get loud sometimes. Peko and I had some shit to work out, but we’re both fine. Didn’t mean to freak you out, so just forget about it.”

\-------------------

Chiaki paled and tensed as the words _work shit out_ and _both fine_ and _forget about it_ registered, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from blurting out her worries. Fuyuhiko was telling her to let it go, but if Peko was hurt she couldn’t just _ignore_ it.

...Fuyuhiko was just going to have to get mad. 

“Fuyuhiko,” Chiaki said, deciding to try being gentle one final time before going the more blunt route. “Is Peko _okay_?”

\-------------------

“Shit, Chiaki, what the hell do you think I did to her?” said Fuyuhiko.

 _What I usually do to her,_ answered a harsh thought. _Because everyone in the house has every reason to believe that Peko wouldn’t be okay, after a screaming match with me._

\-------------------

Chiaki bristled at the question and bit her lip, not wanting to answer out loud. Instead, she avoided making eye contact, her hands curling into tense fists at her sides as she pretended to be interested in a stain that the trip to see Kazuichi had left on her shoe. 

\-------------------

“Dammit, don’t answer that,” he said, turning away from her. Had Chiaki known about _that_ all this time, too? Had she spent the last three weeks terrified not only for her own life, but worried that he’d snap and murder her friends as well? “Dammit,” he murmured again, softly. “Peko’s _fine._ She’s with Kazuichi right now; he’s fine too. That was him fixing the lights just now, so he’s up and about and causing me problems, same as usual. We’ve got one of our mob surgeons looking at his foot, seeing how it’s healing. Someone’s gotta hold his shoulders still while they poke and prod at him and he screams about it.”

\-------------------

Chiaki’s panic flared for a second, hearing _Kazuichi_ and _Peko_ and _surgeon_ and _scream_ before actually registering what Fuyuhiko was saying. Kazuichi was just finally having his injury looked at. That was good, right? They were fine? Fuyuhiko kept saying it, but Chiaki still couldn’t help but worry about them. She was also worried about Fuyuhiko, who probably just finished having a huge Despair fit at _somebody_ , and it had certainly sounded like Peko with all of the screaming. 

Chiaki took a deep breath. She couldn’t stand idly by and let this keep happening. She needed to take advantage of this, while he was here and listening. 

“Fuyuhiko, can we talk?” Chiaki asked, her voice soft again. “Please?”

\-------------------

A soft sigh from Fuyuhiko. “Yeah,” he said, still not looking at her. “Yeah, we probably should. Walk with me.”

\-------------------

Chiaki nodded, and they started walking. 

She opened her mouth a couple different times, but ended up not saying anything at first. She wasn’t sure how to start this conversation. Fuyuhiko already seemed pretty tired, and Chiaki didn’t want to push it too much. There wasn’t really any _gentle_ way to talk about coming out of Despair, at least not while Fuyuhiko was still _in_ Despair. 

She should just rip off the band-aid then. Probably. 

“Fuyuhiko…” she started, purposefully fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves while her hands were still in her pockets. “I… You need to stop doing Despair. It’s not good, and --”

\-------------------

“So, I’m retiring from the Remnants of Despair,” said Fuyuhiko at the same time, his words running together with hers.

\-------------------

“ -- wait. What?” Chiaki’s eyes widened and snapped over to Fuyuhiko’s face. It hadn’t been hard to hear, since he was right next to her, but since she’d been talking it took a moment to register what he’d said. “Retiring?”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” he said, still looking forward, not meeting her eyes. “Wasn’t really working out for the clan. I’m done with that shit.”

That was an understatement. The clan was in shambles. There was so much to fix, so many little details he’d missed that he couldn’t even think of them all. So many cracks in the power structure that needed to be stopped up, all accompanied by the nagging doubt of _maybe I should just let the Kuzuryu Clan collapse._ Hell, half of what was rolling around in his head right now still terrified him. He needed time to focus, to center himself, to figure out who the hell he was, and he didn’t _have_ that time. He needed to be fixing things _now._

\-------------------

Chiaki, for the first time in several hours, felt something other than smothering, all consuming panic. Instead, a small bubble of Hope formed in her chest, tentative but ready to celebrate.

“Really?” she asked hesitantly. “You’re done?”

\-------------------

“If fuckin’ _Kazuichi Soda_ can go cold turkey for six weeks, or however the fuck long his count is at, then I’d look pretty pathetic if I couldn’t too,” he said.

He’d had enough of looking pathetic. How many people had he lost control in front of, broken down in fits of Despair or uncontrollable rage? It was painfully obvious now how much that had been undermining his authority, that he had to keep everyone in line with threats and killing. He’d have to figure out what rumors had been circulating, and where his men’s loyalty lay when there wasn’t a gun to their faces. He was only really half paying attention to Chiaki, his brain working at the problem, dividing it into details that needed his attention, tasks that needed to be done.

How long had it been since his brain last worked like this? It felt… refreshing. Natural, like he was falling back into a familiar rhythm that he hadn’t noticed he was missing. _Damn, I definitely should have listened to Peko earlier._

\-------------------

Chiaki continued to stare as Fuyuhiko walked distractedly beside her, her expression morphing from cautiously hopeful to outright ecstatic, her emotions rapidly switching gears upon hearing the good news. She floundered a bit, unsure of what to say or do, to the point where she just ended up acting on impulse.

Which involved her finally taking her hands out of her pockets and practically tackling Fuyuhiko in a tight, smothering hug. 

“I’m so _proud_ of you!!” Chiaki squealed, picking Fuyuhiko up and spinning him a couple of times before putting him back down again, giving him another tight squeeze.

\-------------------

“AH, Chiaki! Easy on the fuckin’ shoulder!” Fuyuhiko gasped, as the tackle did painfully ungentle things to the bullet wound in his shoulder that filled his vision with stars for a moment. “FUCK!”

She extricated herself from the hug, and he stumbled back and massaged the offending shoulder tetchily, wondering if he should just ground her again out of pettiness. “I definitely won’t be okay if people keep _manhandling_ me, what the hell?”

\-------------------

"Oh, sorry!" Chiaki said, as Fuyuhiko glared at her with all of the intensity of a wet cat. Well, a wet cat who’d been _shot_ , anyway. "I didn't think about your shoulder! Was I too rough with it? Are you bleeding?” She reached out to check on his shoulder, hand freezing mid-air with an unsure look on her face. She fretted for another moment before putting her hand down, looking sheepish about the whole thing.

\-------------------

“Yeah, fine, apology accepted,” Fuyuhiko grumbled, still massaging his aching shoulder. “You’ve been cooped up for a few days, I should have expected you’d take the first available opportunity to practice your human cannonball routine.”

But he was smiling slightly as he said it; not the cold grin of Despair that he was so used to, but something more genuine, pulling at the muscles of his face in a way that was unfamiliar from long disuse. Somehow, that emotional exhaustion had faded a little. Chiaki really was something else.

\-------------------

Chiaki smiled brightly back at Fuyuhiko, relaxing a bit. If he had enough focus to be sassy at her, he was fine, probably. 

“I mean it, though,” Chiaki said. “That I’m proud of you. I know that not doing Despair is actually really hard, and that even _deciding_ not to do it is difficult. But I believe in you, and I’m really, _really_ proud of you.”

\-------------------

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” said Fuyuhiko, his smile fading as his face went hot, and not with shame this time. “I haven’t _done_ anything yet. Right now it’s just words, and saying I’ll do it doesn’t mean shit.”

He backed away from her a little further and stood at attention, his back straight and formal even though it made his shoulder ache. “Chiaki. You’re under my roof, and that means you’re my guest and you’ve got the Kuzuryu Clan’s protection. Anybody who lays a finger on you, it’s my responsibility to make them pay for it.”

A deep breath, and then he knelt in front of her, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the floor. The hallway was empty save for the two of them. Fuyuhiko was glad of it; he wasn’t sure he could have gathered up the willpower to prostrate himself in front of her like this if any of his men had been watching, and that weakness only further shamed him.

“So that’s… dragging you into a dangerous city,” he said to the floor. “Threatening you, slapping you, grabbing you so hard I left bruises on your skin. Screaming at you. Threatening to cut your finger off, locking you in your room. Denying you basic necessities. Hurting your friends and keeping you separate from them.” Keeping his face pressed to the ground, he continued calmly, “That’s all shit I’ve failed to discipline the perpetrator for. Fuckin’ crap hospitality on my end. Did I miss anything? I’ve been a little out of it lately, so I’m ashamed to say I haven’t kept track.”

\-------------------

Chiaki flustered as Fuyuhiko knelt down in front of her, but didn’t say anything as he continued with his apology. And seriously, what was it with Peko and Fuyuhiko and bowing?! Geeze.

When he was done, Chiaki’s expression turned thoughtful. Even if she didn’t think it was necessary (and she didn’t) she knew it was important to Fuyuhiko to get this off his chest. She was quiet and still, accidentally leaving Fuyuhiko in awkward silence as she tried to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” she started, cautiously kneeling down herself and tapping the back of his good shoulder to try and get him to sit up. “And you don’t have to bow either? I kind of knew the risks of all of this stuff going into it, so --” She immediately realized that was probably the exact wrong thing to say, and faltered mid-sentence. “Wait, I mean! Uhm….” 

\-------------------

She knew the risks. Against the floor, Fuyuhiko’s hands clenched into fists. She knew the risks of coming to see him, of interacting with him when he had zero control over himself, when any wrong word could lead to an explosive anger that he took out on everyone around him. _Never again. I will never lose control like that again. Not around her, not around Peko, not around ANYONE._

\-------------------

“I mean,” Chiaki babbled, “there was a lot going on, and you were stressed, and in Despair, and Kyoko was starting riots, and Kazuichi kept blowing up your yard. So. It makes sense.” That was not better. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeves, taking another moment to think about what she should say that wouldn’t make Fuyuhiko feel bad. 

“You don’t have to bow. Or apologize. Is what I mean.” Chiaki smiled at him stiffly, feeling awkward. “I forgave you already.”

\-------------------

“Already?” said Fuyuhiko. “Because about two minutes ago you thought I was still doing it.”

He sighed. “Don’t make excuses for me. It doesn’t matter if you forgave me. I don’t forgive myself. _None_ of that is an excuse, Chiaki, and I owe you your pound of flesh.”

\-------------------

 _But a pound of flesh would be all of you, I think,_ Chiaki thought frantically but did not say. Fuyuhiko was probably still sensitive about his height, if his fancy heeled shoes had anything to say about it. Chiaki would be damned if she continued to put her foot in her mouth during this conversation.

“I don’t need anything, though,” she said instead. “Not because I don’t, uhm, appreciate it? I know this is important, but I never…” _expected an apology._ She didn’t finish the sentence, because she realized almost too late that saying that _also_ sounded bad. “I told you before, I didn’t do this to make you feel bad or make you atone for your sins or anything like that.” 

( _Do you feel irredeemable, Fuyuhiko?_ He never did answer her. And maybe… maybe that _was_ the answer.)

“But, if you feel like you need to, I’ll support you. I said that before, too.”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko said nothing in response to that. Of course he needed to atone. He owed her. Her room had a smell to it, the few times he’d ducked inside lately - like it hadn’t been aired out in weeks, like stale snacks and Kazuichi’s motor oil. He’d had his staff clean the place… once, more than a week ago, when he’d taken her out on the town and almost gotten her killed, and then he’d forgotten about it and never done it again. She was still wearing the same ragged clothes, and those stained and dirty outdoor shoes with the worn down soles. There were _bruises on her arms in the shape of his fingers._

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko wasn’t getting up from his bow, and it was getting really awkward, having this conversation with his face pressed up against the floor. “Get up, okay?” Chiaki murmured, tapping his shoulder again. 

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko straightened up at last from his deep bow, so that they were both just kind of sitting across from each other on the floor in the middle of the hallway. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes. The awkward silence between them continued.

\-------------------

Chiaki bit her lip in thought before asking: “What do _you_ want to do? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. I know you want me to tell you what to do, but… I don’t wanna hurt you.”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” Fuyuhiko muttered. “Guess an eye for an eye wouldn’t really end well for me.”

Huh. He’d made a joke.

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked for a moment before sputtering and covering her mouth. She knew it he was kidding, and that he’d probably meant for her to laugh, but laughing at the fact that Fuyuhiko only had one eye seemed mean. With the two of them only being a few feet apart, though, he could probably hear her giggling behind her hand. She took a moment to settle, and then cleared her throat. 

“That --” Chiaki paused, almost laughing again and collecting herself for another second, and tried again. “That would be pretty bad, yeah. Maybe we can do something that doesn’t involve eyes.”

\-------------------

“I’ll do something public,” Fuyuhiko said, softly but firmly, as if trying to talk himself into it. “To atone for everything. Hell, to _start_ atoning for everything, I guess. Some big public announcement, if that’s the kind of commitment it takes to make sure I won’t go back on my word.” _Because my word means nothing anymore, and hasn’t for TWO AND A HALF FUCKIN’ YEARS._

It would end him for good, if the other Remnants found out. He was too powerful, too important in the group, and the second he showed weakness, that fragile, teetering balance of power between them would collapse like a house of cards. The other powerful Remnants wouldn’t hesitate to swoop in and war over his territory. They’d kill him for this, if it went public that Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu had thrown away his power. 

(That was the wrong way to think about it. Despair wasn’t power. Despair had never been power.)

But he owed this to her. If that was what she decided to demand of him, he’d swallow his pride and screw his courage to the sticking place and take it like a fucking yakuza.

“And… if you decide you want me to turn myself in to the Future Foundation, face their justice or whatever, I’ll do that too. Just say the word.”

\-------------------

Chiaki furrowed her brows, mulling over the options Fuyuhiko gave her. Sending him to the Future Foundation was a definite no; even if Kyoko and her friends were willing to help, it had been made pretty clear that the rest of the organization would just want Fuyuhiko dead. Chiaki definitely didn’t want that.

“I don’t want you to get yourself hurt for me,” she repeated, talking slowly while scooting on the floor until she was sitting next to Fuyuhiko instead of across from him. “Or at all. Kyoko said that… well, the Future Foundation isn’t as good as people say. And making it public...” Chiaki tapped her finger on her chin and looked up, as if the ceiling would provide guidance. Wanting to announce it to the world seemed like a lot of pressure to put on Fuyuhiko all at once, and that hardly seemed fair. He hadn’t even been out of Despair for a day. _Kazuichi’s_ first day out of Despair had just been trying to accomplish the incredibly difficult goal of writing a one on his “Days Without A Workplace Accident” whiteboard.

Although...

“Maybe not, uhm… _public_ public?” Chiaki said, hoping she made sense. “But maybe just the people who live here. Like, Suzuki and Mori and Okamoto and everyone else? That way they all know what’s going on, and you can tell _everyone_ everyone whenever you’re ready.”

That seemed like a fair compromise; Fuyuhiko got to inform others of his new lifestyle choices, and Chiaki got to choose how he did it! Sort of. 

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko understood. She didn’t want his death. Not that he’d really expected it, but he’d been willing to go through with whatever she demanded. But no, his penance would be to continue living. Fuyuhiko could handle that.

Telling the rest of the house… it was still extremely risky. He wasn’t sure how much of his men’s loyalty he still commanded, or if any of them were spies for the other Remnants. He hadn’t been paying attention, he’d been letting details like those slip for too long. And he hadn’t exactly been acting worthy of loyalty, lately. 

But he’d said he’d do whatever she demanded of him, and fair was fair. Once he made the announcement, he’d be honorbound to keep it. His time as a Remnant of Despair was over.

There was an immense amount of relief in that, accompanied by a worrying amount of vestigial panic; a strong desire to fight back against it and swim with the current back into Despair, before he did something he couldn’t come back from. _No, I’ve already decided. There’s no way I’d ever change my mind._

Fuyuhiko stood up, looking determined, and offered Chiaki a hand. “Sounds like I’ve got a speech to write, then. Let’s get going.”

\-------------------

Chiaki took Fuyuhiko’s hand and let him help her to her feet. She brushed off her skirt and legs before looking back up at him. “Where are we going?” She thought they had just been walking randomly.

\-------------------

“I’m taking you to Kazuichi and Peko, obviously,” said Fuyuhiko, starting to walk down the hallway again. “You’re worried about them, and no amount of empty platitudes from me is gonna convince you I didn’t lay a finger on ‘em until you’ve seen it for yourself, right?”

\-------------------

Chiaki blushed slightly at being called out on it. “I didn’t know you were out of Despair yet,” Chiaki mumbled, but followed Fuyuhiko anyway. She _did_ want to see Peko and Kazuichi. It would be nice to see that they were okay. 

The two of them walked through the house, guided by Kazuichi's distant but quickly rising high pitched whine. Fuyuhiko rapped his knuckles on the door behind which all the misery and woe was taking place, and then let himself inside without waiting for an answer. Chiaki poked her head in behind him.

This was one of the guest rooms; not nearly as large or as nice as the one she’d been staying in. Kazuichi was lying in a narrow bed and moaning exaggeratedly, his arm thrown dramatically across his eyes. Peko, however, looked unimpressed and vaguely annoyed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as she stood next to where Kazuichi’s foot was wrapped in a cast and elevated on a couple of pillows at the end of the bed. Chiaki felt a wave of relief at seeing her friends in one piece; Kazuichi was complaining, but that was par the course, all things considered.

Chiaki was especially glad to see Peko unharmed, after panicking about her safety for the past couple of hours. She didn’t do or say anything yet, though, because there was a stranger in the room.

The mob surgeon Fuyuhiko had mentioned was someone Chiaki had never seen before. She was pretty sure she’d met everyone on Fuyuhiko’s house staff, so he’d called this guy in from elsewhere in the city, probably. He was standing at the head of the bed, leaning over the bedside table as he packed up his equipment, and his head jerked up suddenly when Fuyuhiko entered.

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko might have ordered him to be here, but the surgeon obviously hadn’t expected the boss to give enough of a shit to actually drop in and check on things. There was a flicker of panic in the man’s eyes as they darted to Kazuichi (still moaning and complaining as though he was dying, even though nobody was even touching his foot anymore), and Fuyuhiko could see the thought process running through his head. (Oh god, the boss is gonna call me out on a shit performance. He’s gonna say something like “why the hell is he still whining” and he’s gonna pull a gun on me, and he’s gonna…)

With a stiff and formal nod to his oyabun, and a quick series of excuses that came out muttered and incomprehensible and far too quiet, the surgeon edged a little frantically around them all and made himself scarce.

Fuyuhiko watched the man go with an unreadable expression, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. They were terrified of him. The entire clan was absolutely terrified of him.

\-------------------

Chiaki watched the surgeon scurry away like a ghost from a powered up PacMan, and it ended up leaving a strange tension in the room. She wanted to say or do something, but she didn’t know what, without making this more awkward. Fortunately, Peko picked up on the mood and decided to make an attempt at lightening it instead.

Peko gave Fuyuhiko a sharp nod in greeting, before glancing over at Chiaki and giving her a wry smile. "Hello, Chiaki. I see that Fuyuhiko let you out."

“Yep!” Chiaki replied, immediately jumping on the chance to socialize the tension away, and gave Peko a thumbs up. “I’ve been set free.”

\-------------------

“Yeah, well, it was getting real financially unfeasable to keep you in captivity,” Fuyuhiko muttered, giving his head a little shake and focusing back in on the here and now. “You and Kazuichi are just dead set on breaking every cage I put you in.”

\-------------------

“Hey, that’s not true!” Chiaki teased, doing her best to sound deeply offended. “I couldn’t figure out how to get the bars off my windows!”

“Oh, how tragic,” Peko said simply, raising an eyebrow at Chiaki. “You’ve only had them for a few days, you would have figured it out eventually.” There was a moment of silence between the two of them before Peko smirked and added: _“Probably.”_

Chiaki broke and laughed, and Peko smiled softly in response. 

“How are you guys?” Chiaki asked, after calming down. 

“I’m… fine.” Peko looked over at Fuyuhiko, still smiling. “Perhaps better than fine? I’m still not sure.”

\-------------------

“ _I’m_ actively dying,” said Kazuichi, from beneath his arm.

\-------------------

Chiaki gave Kazuichi an empathetic expression. "Is it really bad?"

\-------------------

“Is it bad?” Kazuichi whined dramatically. “Is it BAD? It’s terrible! They put me on strict bedrest! I’m not allowed to move from this spot!”

He pulled his pillow over his face and made a muffled groaning noise into it. “And I JUST had this great idea for what I could do with all the extra parts I took out of Fuyuhiko’s fusebox, but they totally confiscated them from me! Like, ‘you’re on bedrest, you don’t need to DIY a taser, Kazuichi’ and ‘stop trying to taze me with your DIY taser, Kazuichi.’ It’s the absolute worst.”

He lifted the pillow to peer out from under it at her, looking far less upset than he was acting. “But I guess I can forgive them for it, ‘cause hey! More pain meds!”

\-------------------

Chiaki did her best not to laugh at her friend's antics, but ended up failing to hide her smile from him as he peeked out from behind the pillow. "Shocking your doctor with a taser isn’t a good idea, I think.”

“Neither is shocking me,” Peko snipped. “Who do you think took it away from him?”

\-------------------

Chiaki was fussing over her friends, all of them smiling and laughing and looking incredibly relieved to all be together again. None of them were paying him any attention, so Fuyuhiko took the opportunity to quietly excuse himself. He could read the mood. They needed time to catch up and celebrate their victory. He had no place in this little reunion.

“I’ll be… writing that speech,” he said, a little under his breath because he didn’t really want to interrupt them, and he closed the door softly behind him.

\-------------------

Peko’s brows furrowed as Fuyuhiko quietly left, mumbling something softly and slipping away. For most people it wouldn’t be noticed, but the act was so uncharacteristic of him that Peko was immediately worried. But before she could stop him or ask him to stay, the door was closed and he was gone. She stood there for a moment, conflicted and unsure, before Chiaki spoke up. 

“You can go check on him, if you want.” Peko blinked back into reality, realizing that she’d been staring at the door more intensely than she realized. “He needs the company right now, I think.” 

Peko relaxed slightly at being given permission to follow Fuyuhiko out. She was still technically under orders, however… she was more than likely allowed to delegate this particular chore to Chiaki. Fuyuhiko wouldn’t mind that; Kazuichi actually _listened_ when Chiaki spoke. “Can you make sure he doesn't move?" Peko asked, and jerked her head over to Kazuichi. Chiaki nodded, and Peko nodded back, before moving away from the bed and allowing Chiaki to trade places with her.

"I'll be back soon, Chiaki. And _you,_ " Peko started, her voice going terse and her eyes narrowing at the whimpering man on the bed, "Don't move from that spot, Kazuichi.”

\-------------------

“You see? You see my suffering?!” Kazuichi wailed, throwing his hands in the air.

\-------------------

Peko scoffed and rolled her eyes while Chiaki stifled another giggle. Peko stifled a smile of her own; she was glad that they were back to having little moments like this. They felt more genuine, somehow. It was as if there had been a tension hiding under all of the banter and jokes before, that wasn’t there now. 

Peko gave Chiaki and Kazuichi a sharp nod goodbye as Chiaki waved at her, before opening the door and going to find Fuyuhiko. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was up to, but they had a lot of work to do in order to get the clan back in shape. And she wasn’t going to let him do it alone. 

Back in the guest room, a peaceful silence had settled over the room. Or rather, it would have been if Kazuichi wasn’t making a soft, high pitched whining noise in the background. He was still pretty energetic, though, as far as injured Kazuichis went, so that was most likely a good sign. Probably. 

“So…” Chiaki started, finally looking over at Kazuichi with a wide smile on her face. “What now?”

\-------------------

“What now? We treat the _other_ medical emergency I’m having, which is _dying of boredom._ You think you could talk Peko into getting me an internal combustion engine?” Kazuichi asked hopefully. “I don’t care what it’s from, I just wanna make it purr. I haven’t touched a car in days and I’m dying. And Fuyuhiko _owes_ me.”

He paused, suddenly realizing that Chiaki might not know about _the thing_ yet, and that Fuyuhiko definitely wouldn’t want her finding out about _the thing_ from anyone else until he had a chance to tell her himself, and that if Kazuichi let it slip that _the thing_ had happened before Fuyuhiko was ready, it might end up costing him another foot. “Uh,” he said, tentatively. “Speaking of which, did you and Fuyuhiko, um, y’know, talk at all? When he told you you were ungrounded?”

\-------------------

“Yeah, we did,” Chiaki said, giving Kazuichi a thumbs up. “We’re good now.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi stuck his pillow back where it belonged and folded his arms behind his head, gazing at where his cast was propped up on its stack of pillows. Peko had already signed it, in handwriting as neat and precise as her voice.

“Okay, so we’re on the same page about the whole… Fuyuhiko wants to quit Despair with us thing.”

\-------------------

Chiaki nodded, relieved that Kazuichi already knew. "He told me a little earlier that he was retiring. I'm really proud of him; I know it's hard to make that decision.”

\-------------------

“I just want to point out, it only looks easy for him because I did all the hard work,” Kazuichi insisted, sounding not at all petulant whatsoever. “Like, nobody’s impressed by the SECOND guy to climb Mount Everest, right? You know why? It’s ‘cause the first guy put up all the ladders and ropes and stuff. I did all the freakin’ pioneering, over here.”

\-------------------

“So you gotta show him the ropes!” Chiaki said, nodding in agreement. “You’re like the senpai! And Fuyuhiko is the kouhai! Probably.”

\-------------------

“…You think I can get him to call me senpai?” Kazuichi asked, legitimately excited by the prospect.

\-------------------

Chiaki thought about this for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.” She actually kind of did know, but it seemed mean to burst Kazuichi’s excitement like that. 

\-------------------

“Yeah, I’ll ask him to dedicate it to his senpai when he signs my cast. By the way, sign my cast!” Kazuichi scrabbled at his bedside table for a moment and then threw a marker at her.

\-------------------

Chiaki fumbled with the marker, but eventually caught it with both hands. “Oh! Okay!” She leaned over his foot, before pausing and standing up straight again. “Should I just sign my name? I can write other stuff too, right?”

\-------------------

“Yeah, whatever you want!” He faltered. “Er, I mean not WHATEVER you want. Don’t, like, draw a dick on it or something. I gotta wear this thing around for like a month. I don’t wanna be dickfoot guy.”

\-------------------

Chiaki snickered at that, before leaning back over his foot and signing her name and writing _“Get well soon!”_ underneath, as well as drawing a tiny, badly drawn cat emoji with a thumbs up. She then put the cap back on the marker and handed it back to Kazuichi. “There! All done!”

\-------------------

“Chiaki, you’re my best friend,” Kazuichi said, tearing up slightly as he examined his horribly drawn cat. “It’s like you went out of your way to not make it dick shaped.” The tearing up, unfortunately, did not stop at cat gratitude, and Kazuichi mentally blamed the pain meds as he wiped a sleeve across his face. “Hey. Hey, we did it, Chiaki. We got him. We’re gonna… we’re gonna live.”

\-------------------

Chiaki's head whipped around so quickly that she felt her neck cramp a little, but that didn't deter the surprise from Kazuichi saying that. She stared as he wiped his face and she smiled at him, not really sure what to do with all the emotions that came from that declaration, but knowing exactly what to say after Kazuichi's last statement: 

"We did it," she whispered reverently, and then plopped down on the bed. She grabbed Kazuichi's hand and squeezed it before letting out a laugh and squealing. "We did it!"

\-------------------

“We did it!” Kazuichi repeated, pulling on her hand until she collapsed on top of him, so that he could wrap her up in a tight and all-encompassing hug without breaking the rule about moving from this spot. “We totally did it!” he said into her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, tears still streaming unchecked down his face. “Like, Kyoko said it was _literally_ impossible, but you and me and Peko, we made it happen!!”

\-------------------

Chiaki squeezed back, snuggling into Kazuichi while his tears got her jacket wet. She could feel tears welling up in her own eyes now, the weight of everything that had happened in the past few hours finally starting to actually hit her. 

Fuyuhiko was out of Despair. Kazuichi was safe. Peko was okay.

They did it!

Chiaki let out a soft hiccup of a sob -- a happy sob. "That's cos we're awesome," she said, her voice wibbly with emotion. "Kyoko is part of the Future Foundation, but we're cooler, probably."

\-------------------

“Yeah, fuck Despair AND fuck the Future Foundation. We’ll make our own faction. We’ve got Fuyuhiko now, and he’s basically got an army. Even the other Remnants can’t stop us now! We can do whatever we want!”

Kazuichi actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this safe. In Despair he’d always been tense and on edge and suspicious of everyone. Out of Despair, he’d been terrified of getting caught. Heck, even as a kid, school had been a mess of trust issues and battered self esteem, and coming home was a tense ballet of maneuvering around whatever mood his dad was in that day.

Actually, the last time he’d felt this at peace with his life had been… getting accepted to Hope’s Peak Academy. Staring around at the huge, modern buildings of an upper class school his family could never have afforded in a million years. Dropping his stuff off in his dorm room and realizing that this was _home_ now, that there would be no more tiptoeing around his dad. His new teacher and all his classmates (including one super cute blonde girl) coming to collect him for class, upbeat and vibrant and friendly and eager to have him around.

This felt like that.

 _Oh,_ thought Kazuichi, his smile growing even wider. _That’s right. THIS is that “Hope” thing. I totally forgot._

\-------------------

Chiaki laughed again as Kazuichi talked, sitting up a little bit to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Probably,” she responded. She looked up at Kazuichi, who seemed… really, really happy right now. She was too, but she also knew that her job wasn’t done.

Well, she was definitely going to celebrate this, though. This was important. 

“We gotta let your foot heal before we do anything, though,” Chiaki pointed out, looking back at his cast with her crappy doodle on it. “And make sure Fuyuhiko is okay, too. Right?”

\-------------------

“Yeah,” said Kazuichi. “You’re right. I want it to heal fast, so I swear I’ll stay in bed and put up with whatever boring crap Fuyuhiko’s mob surgeon tells me to do. Cross my heart.” The hug seemed to be over, so he flopped his arms back behind him again. “And yeah, we gotta be there for Fuyuhiko too I guess. Frankly, he still owes me.” A slow, scheming grin crossed his face. “You know what, I’m gonna make him write ‘Kazuichi was right and I was wrong’ on my cast, and I’m gonna make him sign it, and then every day until my foot heals he’s gonna have to look at that reminder that I was ON THE RIGHT FRIGGIN SIDE, the whole time.”

\-------------------

“Heey!” Chiaki said, pouting and poking Kazuichi in the face, “Hey, hey, don’t pick on your kouhai! He’s got a lot of stuff to do first.” Her pout lasted less than thirty seconds, as the idea of Fuyuhiko having to write something silly on Kazuichi’s cast caught up to her, and she laughed at Kazuichi’s antics.

\-------------------

“You’re right. As his senpai, I’ve gotta set a good example,” said Kazuichi, trying to keep a straight face.

\-------------------

Chiaki suddenly was struck with a thought: “Hey senpai, do you know how to make a battery charge last a super long time? Like a couple of weeks kind of long time?”

\-------------------

Kazuichi sobered up a bit at the tech question. “Hm… yeah, I could probably do that. I guess it depends on what you’re powering and how much you’re using it. I could use a project while I’m stuck here healing, so what have you got in mind?”

\-------------------

“My GameGirl is a super old model, and when I eventually go back out there to help everyone else, the batteries will need to last a while. Just in case I can’t charge stuff for a long time.”

\-------------------

“Oh,” said Kazuichi, his smile fading. “Everybody else, huh? You’re still… doing that.” He’d kind of hoped she’d just take the win and be done with it. Hadn’t there been enough stress and bodily injury just with Fuyuhiko?

But of course she couldn’t quit now, that’s not how Chiaki was. And besides, they’d already proved it could be done, right? Probably with one of the hardest Remnants to do it to. Most of the others didn’t even have bodyguards. He couldn’t imagine somebody like Akane or Gundham fighting half as hard against this as Fuyuhiko.

A few weeks ago, maybe even a few days ago, Kazuichi would have whined and complained and tried to talk her out of it. Now he only sighed heavily and asked, “Okay. Who next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've dropped a few hints, so if you've been paying attention, you might have already guessed which Remnant we're doing next!


	18. Ninkyo Dantai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Chiaki and Peko were played by Blueflame91, and Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko were played by RedPen.

It was a while later. Chiaki’s GameGirl lay spread out across Kazuichi’s bedsheets, disassembled into intricate little parts and fanned out around him. Sitting upright in bed, his leg still propped atop its pile of pillows, Kazuichi bit the end of a paperclip, trying to flatten it into something like a teeny tiny screwdriver. With steady hands he set to work on carefully prying up the little black CPU from the circuit board.

Beside the bed, Chiaki hovered nervously, fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie as he worked. He had to keep shooing her away as she leaned further and further into his space, trying to watch what he was doing. It was a little nerve-wracking, honestly. Less like taking apart an electronic and more like performing life saving surgery on a beloved family pet.

He probably should have waited to do this until he had some actual tools. He wasn’t good at waiting for things.

“Okay,” he said, setting the CPU aside in its designated spot among the other carefully sorted parts. “Explain this to me one more time. Considering, just, the vast range of options that we have. Considering that we’ve got a whole entire class of really great, fun, talented people who would be super cool to have around in our new Fuck Despair faction...” He gestured at her disbelievingly with the paperclip. “Why the _heck_ do you wanna go after _Nagito Komaeda?”_

\-------------------

Chiaki’s eyes flickered back and forth between Kazuichi’s exasperated expression and the innards of her GameGirl strewn all over the bed. While she was excited about her GameGirl’s battery life getting a much needed powerup, it was still a little nerve-wracking to have one of her most valuable possessions be taken apart piece by piece like this. It was because of those wracked nerves that Chiaki was so slow to register Kazuichi’s question, but she finally averted her gaze from the torn apart handheld and pouted at him directly.

“Nagito is fun and great and talented too, Kazuichi,” Chiaki pointed out, as if it were an obvious fact.

\-------------------

“Debatable,” Kazuichi muttered, the paperclip stuck between his teeth again.

\-------------------

“Plus, I know where Nagito is,” Chiaki continued, ignoring Kazuichi in an act of benevolent petulance. “That’s how I picked Fuyuhiko; I knew where he was, so I came here! Fuyuhiko mentioned a couple of weeks ago that Nagito’s in Towa City, so… since that’s the only other person whose location I know, it’d make sense to go after him next cos of that, I think.”

\-------------------

“You know where Teruteru is,” said Kazuichi, examining the Gamegirl’s battery pack. “His stomping grounds are between mine and Fuyuhiko’s, you literally walked right through his friggin teru-territory to get here. If that’s the arbitrary rule you’re going by, we should be doing _him_ next!”

\-------------------

Chiaki’s face turned bright red, but she still stared at Kazuichi with a deadpan expression. _“Teru-territory?”_ she asked accusingly. “Really?”

\-------------------

“Don’t look at me, that’s what _he_ calls it,” said Kazuichi. “Seriously, I was expecting you to say we’re doing Teruteru next. I was already hyping myself up for Teruteru! He’s within walking distance, and Nagito’s all the way in Towa. We’d have to _road trip_ to Nagito. You know I get carsick, right? You think you’ve seen me at my worst? You’ve seen me in Despair. Despair is nothing, you don’t wanna see me on a road trip.”

\-------------------

Chiaki went back to avoiding eye contact, this time looking at the floor. She fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves again, and her shoulders were up to her ears as she mumbled something soft and inaudible.

\-------------------

Kazuichi’s hands paused in their disassembly of the GameGirl, and he glanced over at her. “What?” he said, and then, with growing concern at that flustered, red-faced look, “Chiaki, what? Did something happen when you cut through his territory?”

He’d been following her, back then, but hadn’t caught up with her yet. She’d gone through Teruteru’s hunting grounds alone. Kazuichi realized with sudden dread that _anything_ could have happened to her without his incredibly effective and vital protection. “Chiaki?! Chiaki, what’d he _do?!”_

\-------------------

Chiaki flustered at Kazuichi’s growing concern on her behalf -- while she was glad he cared about her so much, she hadn’t realized the implications of her quiet, avoidant embarrassment until now. 

“No, no, Teruteru didn’t do anything!” Chiaki immediately defended, before pausing and giving Kazuichi a sheepish look. “I mean, he didn't do anything worse than you or Fuyuhiko have done.”

\-------------------

“Oh man, _that_ bad?” said Kazuichi, going pale.

\-------------------

“It wasn’t that bad, now that --” _I’m more used to you guys,_ Chiaki didn’t say, because Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko were both doing their best to be better, and that wouldn’t be fair. “Now that I know better. I’m just… sort of… avoiding him. Cos it’s awkward.” Her words trailed off into embarrassed, hesitant silence. Kazuichi was staring at her, and now she realized that she sort of owed him an explanation. Darn it. 

“Uhm, so… I found him in a warehouse. He was Despair high, I think? He chased me around with a meat cleaver. He looked really scary and angry, too, and when I tried to talk to him he didn’t listen to me… he was more focused on screaming and chopping than talking. That’s not why it’s awkward, though.”

“Uhm, anyway, I ended up dodging and running around a lot. And, you know how I do weird, dumb stuff when I panic? I...” Chiaki’s face turned red again, and she looked away from Kazuichi in shame. “There were a bunch of boxes everywhere, so I hid behind a stack of them and…”

\-------------------

Kazuichi was the one leaning forward now, hanging worriedly on her every word. _“And?”_ he said.

\-------------------

“I took my panties off, and when he rounded the corner I threw them at him.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi stared at her blankly. “You… threw...” he began, slowly.

\-------------------

“I threw my panties at his face!” said Chiaki, feeling like her own face was on fire. “I ran away after that, and he was super confused about that happening, probably, because he just stood there making that same face you’re making right now, and I was able to get away but if I go back now, it’s going to be really, _really_ awkward and if Fuyuhiko finds out I did that he might do something really rash and violent since he thinks he has to protect me, and he _already_ shot you in the foot, and it wasn’t even Teruteru’s fault, he didn’t _ask_ for my panties, I just _threw_ them, and that’s sexual harassment, probaby, and-”

Chiaki paused her rambling to take a deep breath and realized she was spiraling -- _catastrophizing_ , she could practically hear Hajime saying boredly in the back of her head. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax a little. She was still embarrassed, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe the end of her dignity, but she’d live. “It was my first time dealing with someone acting like that, so I freaked out and did something embarrassing so. Yeah. Avoiding Teruteru. Because it’s awkward.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi’s eyes slid slowly downward, drawn inexorably to her skirt as if by a magnet. “Are you… not wearing panties right now?” he asked, with growing horror. “Have you been running around the apocalypse, going _commando_ in a _skirt??”_

\-------------------

“No!!” Chiaki yelled back defensively, resisting the urge to cover herself. Kazuichi had volunteered to (read: was ordered by Hajime to) help Chiaki out with things like bathing and dressing herself while she was recovering from her coma, so he’d already seen way more of her than she would have initially preferred him to see. That was sort of inevitable when you had severe muscle atrophy and your only roommates were two guys.

“I came here right after, and Ueda -- she’s one of Fuyuhiko’s maids -- noticed I didn’t have any when she did my laundry, and she gave me a whole package of new ones. I’m definitely, for sure wearing panties right now.” There was a moment of silence. Kazuichi did not move. “So stop looking at my crotch. Please.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi’s eyes snapped towards the ceiling. “Y’know, sometimes I forget you’re, like, a _girl_ ,” he said, a little bit of a whine in his voice, “Until conversations like this remind me. It’s like a gut punch. And then you say words like _crotch!_ Girls shouldn’t say _crotch!!_ It’s like punching me twice!!”

\-------------------

“That’s what it’s called!!” Chiaki whined back, pouting and crossing her arms in a petulant manner. “We aren’t even _talking_ about crotches, we’re talking about which one of our classmates we’re gonna do next, and I think we should do Nagito!!”

\-------------------

“Do I get a vote?” said Kazuichi. “Because I think we should do literally anyone besides Nagito. It doesn’t have to be Teruteru, it can be anybody. You wanna go after somebody you know the location of? We can get you locations! I know for a fact Fuyuhiko’s got most of their contact info! Nekomaru, maybe? Nekomaru was cool!”

\-------------------

“Nekomaru?” Chiaki tilted her head. “I don’t mind, but why him?”

\-------------------

“I dunno, maybe ‘cause you were talking about crotches! It’s word association, or something!” Kazuichi’s shoulders slumped miserably. “Chiaki, you do, like, _remember_ what Nagito was like, right? Back in school. The dude was already unhinged. Despair has not made him _better.”_

\-------------------

“I thought he was nice…” Chiaki mumbled, before remembering the time where he _brought a gun to school_ in order to shoot someone in the face. Maybe Kazuichi had a point? (Granted, considering who Nagito had tried to shoot, Chiaki didn’t really blame him for that, but _still_.) 

\-------------------

“Spoken like somebody who’s never been hit by the luck truck,” Kazuichi grumbled, turning his attention back to her disassembled GameGirl. “Nagito is actually supernaturally cursed. Bad things happen to me around Nagito. I’ve had enough broken bones this apocalypse, thanks.”

\-------------------

Chiaki opened her mouth to scold Kazuichi about not being mean to Nagito based on weird coincidences, but then remembered that Nagito survived getting shot at point blank range by Hajime “Has All Of The Talents Now” Hinata, and thought better of it. Maybe Nagito _was_ weirdly lucky, but still…

“I don’t think he’s _cursed,_ Kazuichi,” Chiaki said, continuing her thoughts aloud. “Maybe his luck just doesn’t like you.”

\-------------------

“Yeah, _that’s_ the _curse_ ,” said Kazuichi, flicking one of the GameGirl’s tiny screws at her. “Oh, whoops, grab that off the floor, I’m gonna need that later. Hey, remember the bomb threat? Nagito got suspended on a bomb threat. That was before Despair. That was normal, baseline Nagito. Despair Nagito is all that plus a BDSM aesthetic. The guy’s got a creepy smile and a creepy laugh and a method of conflict resolution that involves homemade incendiaries, and I don’t wanna deal with that!”

He groaned softly. “Look, I’m in this for the long haul. I am with you one hundred percent on saving all our classmates from Despair, and I will follow you to the ends of the earth to help and support you with that, but, like… if you get to avoid the people you don’t like, I should get to avoid the people I don’t like. Let’s do somebody else. Let’s never do Nagito.”

\-------------------

Chiaki gave Kazuichi a deadpan expression at his last comment. “Kazuichi…” She let out a sigh, sticking her hands in her pockets and kicking at the ground. The screw rolled around a bit next to her shoe. “I’m not going to avoid Teruteru forever. I’m working my way up to him. And we can’t _not_ do Nagito, that wouldn’t be fair to him or everyone else.”

\-------------------

“I’m just saying, my vote should count. I wanna do Nekomaru.” He went over that in his head again. “Okay, can we stop saying it like that, actually? ‘Cause the only person I wanna DO is Miss Sonia! AHRG, even saying it like that makes it sound dirty. My love for her is totally pure, you know!” He groaned again and pulled his hat over his eyes. “This is all your fault for talking about crotches.”

\-------------------

Chiaki rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to giggle at Kazuichi’s expense. “ _You’re_ the one who forgot I was a girl and asked if I was wearing panties. Dork.”

\-------------------

“You’re a dork,” said Kazuichi, throwing another screw at her. “Wait, dangit, I’ve gotta stop doing that! We don’t wanna lose those!”

While Chiaki was crawling around on the floor looking for the screws, he went on, “Seriously, if it’s just about knowing somebody’s location, let’s just ask Fuyuhiko where everybody is and then pick whoever we want. Some people are gonna be way easier to sway than others, right? Let’s go for quantity over quality. Outnumber the powerful people before we get to them, y’know?”

\-------------------

Chiaki popped up from the floor on her knees, giving Kazuichi a bright smile as she put the two tiny screws on the bed next to him. “That’s actually a really good plan, Kazuichi!”

\-------------------

“All my plans are good,” said Kazuichi, lying. “Like, your last plan was to run off and immediately go after one of the Big Three, and just hope for the best? That plan sucked. Just because it ended up _working_ doesn’t mean it wasn’t, y’know, on paper, a bad plan that sucked. Let’s get _tactical_ with the next one. No more throwing ourselves headlong into disaster.”

\-------------------

Still kneeling on the floor, Chiaki crossed her arms over the bedsheets and rested her chin in them. “I’m Lerooooy Jeeeenkiiiiins,” she said softly, giggling to herself. 

\-------------------

“I don’t get that reference. Is that a video game thing? I don’t get that,” said Kazuichi. “Anyway, let’s collect some other allies, and then we’ll do Nagito.” He paused. “Uh, not DO Nagito, we’ll _tackle_ Nagito. (No, that still sounds…) Okay, we’ll… _deal with_ Nagito. It’s better to save him for later. He’s not, like, one of the powerhouse Remnants, but he’s still overseeing the corporate conglomerate we’re blackmailing to build our army of death robots, and I think they’re developing brainwashing tech or whatever, and he’s got all those hostages to keep alive, and like, we want some serious muscle backing us up when we walk in and dismantle all that, right?”

\-------------------

What.

“What.”

\-------------------

“What?” said Kazuichi, nonplussed, as if nothing he’d just said had been utterly horrifying.

\-------------------

“Nagito is…” Chiaki blinked a couple times, before giving Kazuichi a frightened look. “He’s building _what_ now? Why do you guys have hostages in Towa City? And what does Nagito need brainwashing stuff for?!”

\-------------------

“To brainwash people? I don’t know specifics!” said Kazuichi, throwing his hands (and another screw, accidentally) in the air in utter frustration that Chiaki had completely missed the point. He only knew about the brainwashing tech at all because Fuyuhiko and Peko had talked about it while he was screaming and bleeding out on the floor earlier. “Ask Fuyuhiko if you wanna know about it; I’m low on the food chain, nobody tells me anything!”

\-------------------

Chiaki suddenly felt nauseous. She’d seen what Despair brainwashing had turned her friends into. She had no desire to see what would happen if that sort of thing were to bleed into the general populace.

(Maybe something like the Reserve Course mass suicide Fuyuhiko mentioned? Chiaki shuddered. She’d _definitely_ be asking Fuyuhiko about this later.)

\-------------------

“-and like, why does he even need to keep an eye on the Towa Group?” Kazuichi was rambling, oblivious to Chiaki’s mounting horror. “We don’t need the Towa Group. We need an army of robots? _I_ could have made us an army of robots! Sure it’d be slower, but it’d be _better;_ mass produced stuff is crap these days. But he just HAD to tell me, ‘no Kazuichi, I have it all under control, I wouldn’t want to trouble you when you’re so busy doing _important things’_ in the most SMUG voice like he totally didn’t know I had nothing else going on, and then he goes and gives one of MY MONOKUMAS to the freakin’ Towa Group’s bastard, and she TOTALLY plagiarized my mascot design and took ALL THE CREDIT-”

He realized that he’d grabbed his pillow and had been squeezing the metaphorical life out of it only when it finally exploded in a cloud of feathers. Kazuichi stared at Chiaki blankly as they settled like snow around the two of them. “Wow. I know he’s rich, but like, Fuyuhiko’s got really classy pillows.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi's pillow exploding brought Chiaki out of her own head, but her decision was made. All that talk of tactics and strategic planning and not Leroy Jenkinsing into danger had gone right out the window. Nagito was next. With everything he was doing, he _had_ to be.

\-------------------

“Anyway, I’ll get us some info on where Nekomaru is right now, and we’ll start with that,” said Kazuichi. “Once my foot’s all healed up, anyway. Uh… you _are_ gonna wait for my foot to heal, right? Y-you’re not gonna leave without me, right??” 

He’d suddenly realized that this would be an ideal opportunity for Chiaki to ditch him. He’d only been here for a few days, and he’d spent most of that time complaining, needing to be rescued, coming up with stupid plans, being generally unhelpful, and getting in her way a lot. They’d been celebrating with ‘we did it’ a moment ago, but when you thought about it, hadn’t Kazuichi’s presence just made her work with Fuyuhiko that much harder? That joyous sense of peace and accomplishment flickered and died. 

“‘Cause, uh, I know I've been complaining a lot,” he said, a little quieter. “But I did get shot in the foot, you know, so it’s not like I’m whining for no reason! I’ll definitely be able to walk on it soon, and even before that, there’s lots of stuff I can do for you!”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked at Kazuichi for a moment. "Of course I'm going to stay till your foot heals," Chiaki said, as if it were obvious (because it was, to her at least). She reached over and gently prodded his knee. "I mean, I wanna make sure you'll be okay. Plus, it's kind of a jerk move to leave when someone else is hurt, I think."

\-------------------

Kazuichi relaxed a little. “Okay. Yeah, of course you’re not gonna ditch me. I’ll work hard to get better super fast, so we can get back out on our mission to save the world or whatever!”

Granted, working hard to get better involved a lot of lying around in bed doing nothing, which was gonna SUCK, but the sooner his foot healed the less of a burden he would be on everybody. So he’d stick it out with minimal complaining! (Still a lot of complaining, but like, minimal for HIM.)

“And in the meantime, I will _trick out_ this GameGirl!” He rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly. “Uh, speaking of which… I have paperclips and all, but that’d be a lot easier to do if I had some tools, and I sort of… um. Threw mine out. You think you could talk Peko or somebody into hooking me up?”

\-------------------

“Or you could ask me nicely, Kazuichi.”

Chiaki jumped and turned around to see Peko standing in the door, giving a small impish smile. (At least, it was impish for Peko, who wasn’t really impish, usually. She must be in a really good mood.

It wouldn’t occur to Chiaki until later that Peko was just quoting Fuyuhiko from earlier.)

“Hi, Peko!” Chiaki said, giving the other girl a small wave. Peko gave Chiaki a brief nod before stepping fully into the room herself. “That was fast. How’s Fuyuhiko doing?”

Peko’s smile grew a little softer. “He’s trying to think of a proper way to fulfill your request, and it’s taking some effort. Otherwise, he’s doing well.” If by ‘doing well’ she meant over twenty-five paper balls scattered around his office with him mumbling aggressively at a notebook at his desk, then he was doing _very_ well.

\-------------------

“Oh, hey, Peko’s back,” said Kazuichi, sounding not at all pleased about it. “You still owe me a paperclip. And now you owe me interest on the paperclip. Bring me some paper, I’m gonna make a list of all the stuff I want. You guys got any hardware stores in your death city? ‘Cause you’re gonna want to just bring me ALL of that.”

\-------------------

“All that for a paperclip?” Peko raised an eyebrow at Kazuichi, who had gotten rather comfortable with giving out orders considering he’d been tied up and gagged by the people he was making demands of less than three hours ago.

\-------------------

“The paperclip is the _least_ of what you owe me for, and we both know it,” said Kazuichi, raising his foot slightly.

\-------------------

“Put your foot down, or I’ll tie it to the bed,” Peko said back, before letting out an exasperated sigh. She hated to admit it, but Kazuichi had a valid point. “I’ll see what I can do.” She then gave Kazuichi a sharp look before adding on, “As long as there isn’t any more property damage to the Young Master’s estate.”

\-------------------

“Come on, what damage can I do? I’m stuck in bed!” said Kazuichi, who’d somehow demolished the entire downstairs holding facilities while locked in said holding facilities. “I promise I won’t destroy anything. Uh… okay, I’m out of Despair now, I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep. I promise to tell you before I destroy anything important.”

\-------------------

Peko gave Chiaki a pointed look, quirking an eyebrow as if to say with just her expression: _are you hearing this right now?_ Chiaki laughed a little. “You probably just shouldn’t do the property damage at all, I think.”

“There’s no _I think_ about it,” Peko said bluntly. “If the Young Master doesn't believe Kazuichi can control himself, I won’t be allowed to give him the tools.”

“He’ll be good,” Chiaki promised. “I asked him to help make my GameGirl’s battery life better, so he’ll be working on that for a bit. Probably.”

\-------------------

“Yeah, we’re gonna need it to last for a while, since power’s kinda hit or miss in the world out there,” said Kazuichi, flippantly. He flopped back down against his ruined pillow, heedless of how it jostled the bed and sent all the GameGirl’s carefully sorted parts scattering in wildly different directions. “Also, whatever you gave me for the pain? More of that, please. Like, way more. I need to stock up for a road trip.”

\-------------------

Peko blinked at that, obviously not expecting Kazuichi to say that he was leaving. “Kazuichi, you can’t leave yet. The surgeon said your foot is in no condition for even _minimal movement_ , let alone traveling to… where?”

Chiaki looked between Peko and Kazuichi, piping up before Kazuichi could explain: “We were talking about that before you came back, actually! I’m gonna stay here for a while to make sure Kazuichi’s feeling better and Fuyuhiko is doing okay, but we were thinking about going back out and helping the others, too.”

Peko blinked again. She hadn’t expected Chiaki to be so ready to move on to the next Remnant. Though, Peko supposed that made sense; while Fuyuhiko had ultimately decided that Despair wasn’t in his best interest anymore, the others were still actively destroying the world. They would have plenty of time to properly celebrate once everyone else had decided to come out of Despair.

She took a moment to think it over. The world outside was dangerous. But Chiaki was well aware of that, and seemed fairly confident that she could handle herself. Especially with Kazuichi by her side. He was a fellow Remnant; he could survive out there just fine. There really wasn’t any reason to protest, or insist that she stayed.

“I was thinking about visiting Nagito in Towa first, but Kazuichi said it’s a bad idea,” Chiaki continued obliviously.

Oh. Well, damn, if it’s _Nagito,_ then --

“I agree with that sentiment. It’s a bad idea. Nagito is…” Peko paused, taking a moment to find a word that was both accurate and wouldn’t upset Chiaki too much. There weren’t many, so Peko settled on: “Difficult.”

\-------------------

“Is that the word we’re using? Difficult? Because I can definitely think of some other adjectives,” said Kazuichi. “Which is why I told her we should play it safe and start with someone easy. I thought we agreed on Nekomaru? Nekomaru’s definitely one of the more _stable_ Remnants, right?”

\-------------------

Peko didn’t respond, thinking about Kazuichi's side of things. Going into Nagito’s territory with guns blazing was a sure-fire way to get someone dead, or at the very least maimed horribly. And Nekomaru (and Akane, who hardly left Nekomaru’s side) would be beneficial in taking out the Monokuma Units that the Towa Group was mass producing.

However, Peko could tell from Chiaki’s pout that this conversation wasn’t over. 

“If Nagito is _un_ stable, wouldn’t it be a better idea to do him first?” Chiaki asked, her brow furrowed in concentration. “He’s doing a lot of really bad stuff in Towa! Kazuichi says he’s got, uhm, robots? And he’s also making brainwashing stuff, right? Wouldn’t it be better to try and stop him now, even if he’s hard?”

\-------------------

“We’re all doing bad stuff! I could list worse stuff people are doing! Nagito’s not out there actively murdering people, y’know, currently, so technically speaking, he’s less of a threat to the world than the rest of us!” said Kazuichi, in the tone of voice of someone who absolutely did not want to deal with Nagito, despite how little of a threat he supposedly was. “And seriously, can we stop talking about _doing_ Nagito when he’s _hard?_ If this awakens something in me it’s your fault, y’know!”

\-------------------

Peko ignored Kazuichi’s crudeness and resisted the urge to show any signs of exasperation. It was apparent that Kazuichi had over-shared, which had pushed Chiaki firmly into the _go after Nagito_ next side of all of this. And while Peko agreed with Kazuichi (because frankly she did not want to deal with Nagito if she could avoid it), all of this arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere but upset with each other. 

“Perhaps,” Peko started, before Chiaki could rebuttal Kazuichi’s latest complaint, “we should include Fuyuhiko in this conversation as well, since he’s decided to officially… re-evaluate his stance on things.” Chiaki proceeded to pout again, obviously still sulking about the fact that neither of her friends agreed with her, at least until Peko went on: “If we are… _going after_ Nagito next, we would be remiss not to use every resource at our disposal. The same goes for Nekomaru, or any other Remnant, for that matter. Fuyuhiko has access to information on all of the others, manpower, funding, and weapons if necessary.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Chiaki said quickly, before Peko put her hand up to stop her from working herself into a fretting frenzy.

“The point I’m attempting to make is that you aren’t _alone_ in this anymore, Chiaki,” Peko said. Chiaki stared at her for a moment, her eyes wide with wonder. Had Chiaki not realized this yet, even after speaking with Kazuichi all this time? “You’ve won the allegiance of one of the most powerful Remnants of Despair, and all of the resources that come with that. You don’t have to sneak around or cover for us anymore. We’re all on your side, openly and honestly. Let us help you.”

\-------------------

Kazuichi sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, Peko’s right. If you really wanna do Nagito, fine. I’ll stop complaining, we’ll do Nagito. But it’ll be better to take him with a couple of strong guys! Wait, no, that also sounds… I-I mean Remnants! Strong like, other powerful Remnants! To back us up! While we totally non-sexually convert him to the side of Hope!!” 

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked a couple of times, before tearing up all over again. She sniffled and hiccupped, quickly pulling up the sleeves of her hoodie to wipe her eyes. “You guys…”

Peko froze, eyes wide with horror. She’d made Chiaki cry? _She’d made Chiaki cry._ Shit, what now? Peko was well aware that comforting others wasn’t in her ballpark. She could handle a pissed off, Despair-crazed yakuza, but put her in front of a crying human and all bets were off.

\-------------------

Kazuichi, far more used to this, laughed and threw a small handful of parts at Peko. “Dang it, Peko, you broke her.” He leaned over and wrapped an arm around Chiaki. “Look, she’s leaking!”

\-------------------

“I’m still not a robot,” Chiaki cry-laughed, her words muffled as continuing to hide her face behind her hoodie sleeves. “Dork.”

Peko, in the meantime, panicked at the idea of being the one to break Chiaki before realizing that Kazuichi was kidding. She gave him a mean stink eye before taking a page from Chiaki’s book and taking a deep breath to calm down.

\-------------------

“So… tools?” Kazuichi prompted. “Step one of this plan is tools. And also parts. I have lost a lot of parts on the floor of this room somewhere. And also in the bedsheets, which is getting really uncomfortable. Maybe just bring me some smartphones to gut? This GameGirl’s not gonna modify itself.”

\-------------------

“I still haven’t heard you promise you’re not going to break things,” Peko said bluntly.

\-------------------

Kazuichi groaned dramatically. “Okay, fine. If it’s for Chiaki’s GameGirl, I need the tools to do this right. And if I gotta have self control and not destroy Fuyuhiko’s house to get those tools, then…” He squeezed his eyes shut, tilted his head back, and took a deep, overdramatic, long-suffering breath. “I… can make that sacrifice.”

\-------------------

Peko resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Kazuichi’s antics, while Chiaki didn't even bother stifling her giggling. Kazuichi was such a baby, it was ridiculous.

"Well, if you're sure," Peko said, attempting sarcasm and failing. (How did Fuyuhiko DO that so well? It eluded her.) "I'll petition Fuyuhiko for your tools, but he gets the final say."

"It's for me though!" Chiaki said, finally settling down enough to peek up from behind her sleeves. Her eyes were red rimmed and she was still smiling. Peko smiled back.

"I'll tell him that, also," Peko replied. “I’ll also discuss both of your ideas on who we should attempt to… non-sexually convert.” 

\-------------------

“Sometimes I feel like you guys don’t take me seriously at all,” Kazuichi grumbled.

~~~~~~

The day of the speech arrived, like every day in the apocalypse, under the dull copper disk of a sun in a red and polluted sky.

Fuyuhiko’s hands clenched the paper in front of him until it creased and wrinkled, his carefully written and edited and rewritten handwriting smearing against his fingers. He was standing out in front of the house, his back to the front door. An audience of security and house staff and miscellaneous Kuzuryu Clan members was arranged on folding chairs across the grounds, watching him. Just those who were a part of his personal household, he hadn’t even called in any of his men from out in the city beyond. It was a minuscule number, compared with the group’s actual membership. It still felt like too many.

Who here was loyal to him, and who was waiting for even the slightest sign of weakness to rise up against him? For that matter, any one of these people could be reporting to another Remnant, or the Future Foundation. The words on the page in front of him suddenly seemed so hollow.

He looked up, and his eyes found Chiaki in the crowd, watching expectantly and beaming with eager pride. Peko was beside him, dressed in her formal best. Only Kazuichi was absent, still being forced to stay in bed while his foot healed, but the window of his guest room upstairs had been left wide open, despite the bad air, so he could hear.

_Dammit, it was a mistake to let them be here for this. Should have gotten them out of the city, hid them in a safehouse somewhere. To hell with moral support; if the clan takes this bad enough to kill me, they’ll take out the three of them, too. Peko could fight her way out, but she won’t. She’d stay and help us, until it got her killed._

_So I’ve just gotta do this right. Don’t look weak, don’t look like I’m admitting any kind of failure or mistakes. We’re just… taking the Kuzuryu Clan in a different direction now. Reassessing our goals. God, I sound like a fuckin’ CEO stepping down after a media scandal. Is this really the best I could come up with? What happened to my goddamn talent? Tell them like their fuckin’ oyabun!_

He continued to stare out at them over the paper. They continued to wait.

\-------------------

Chiaki sat towards the front, doing her absolute best not to fidget and sneakily giving Fuyuhiko a thumbs up when she caught his eye. He and Peko looked so _professional_ up there, and everyone was watching. Chiaki knew this was hard, but he could do it! 

~~~~~~

Peko stood stoically next to Fuyuhiko, her face an impenetrable mask of coldness and indifference. She gazed out at the Clan, keeping an eye out for any sign of weakness or disagreement. She knew Fuyuhiko could do this, but it would all be for naught if some Despairing fool decided Fuyuhiko’s decision for the clan was invalid, or if they just wanted to commit suicide by sword.

Peko resisted the urge to encourage Fuyuhiko, though the thought of it wrapped around her mind like vice. She saw Chiaki give Fuyuhiko a thumbs up, and Peko did her best to not show how grateful she was that Chiaki could support him in ways she could not. 

(Or could she, now that she was allowed to express herself? Being a person with choices was so much more complicated.)

\-------------------

Standing there, his back straight, outwardly calm and assured and professional. Fuyuhiko continued to silently panic.

_Fuck,_ Despair was contagious! He’d been spreading it around for two and a half years. How many of the eyes out there watching him had fallen prey to it? How many still served him, not out of whatever shred of their respect the Kuzuryu Clan still laid claim to, not for the power, not because working for him was the only reasonably safe, stable way to be guaranteed food and a place to sleep at night in this hellhole of a world… but because they were honestly in Despair alongside him, and wanted the world to suffer?

That familiar staticy feeling in his head, that sickly tar in his stomach, both rose up eagerly at the idea that maybe it was too late for this, maybe there was no point. The Kuzuryu Clan was standing in front of him, but maybe it was as hollow as his speech, and he’d already destroyed it.

_What the fuck? Details. Don’t let it distract you from the details._

Beyond the walls of his property, he could see the buildings of his city, dilapidated and neglected and vandalized, full of hopeless, starving people. Red haze glittered around his men, well fed, well rested, clean suits and clean faces.

He hadn’t driven the Kuzuryu Clan into the ground, for all that his Despair had insidiously tried to make it happen. He’d taken care of his own, even while he’d destroyed everybody else. (Or, well, Peko had taken care of them, but he hadn’t stopped her.) Fuyuhiko thought that if he’d looked out there with his eyes finally clear and seen his yakuza as ragged and beaten down as the rest of the world, he probably would have given up then and there and let Despair rise back up and claim him. There’d be no point to anything, if he’d already been that far gone. But Peko had seen it coming. Peko had stopped him. He hadn’t failed them. They hadn’t flourished, but they weren’t actively dying, either. He could work with that.

Fuyuhiko crumpled up the speech in his hands, and tossed it to the side.

“Been a shit oyabun lately,” he said. “Been stomping all over your loyalty like it ain’t worth anything. Some of you might be pissed off at that. But you’re alive to be pissed, and most of the world ain’t.”

It wasn’t what he’d written. His talent wasn’t fuckin’ _speechwriting._

“I haven’t led you too wrong. We’re a major world power, we OWN Japan. That ain’t gonna change. But what we’re DOING with it…” He gestured out toward the city. With his bad arm, even though it hurt, because they all knew he’d been shot and he wanted them to see him wave his arm without so much as flinching. “We’re doing fuckall with it. Just being fuckin’ middle school bullies while we let it fall apart. That ain’t what the yakuza is about.”

He slammed his fist into his hand, sending a shiver of pain up his arm. “We’re the fuckin’ _ninkyo dantai,_ and that means something! We’ve got a code! This is our city, our country! What’s happening to the world out there… why the hell are we letting the Future Foundation fight back against it? That should be us! That _woulda_ been us, if I hadn’t been letting the high from burning the world down fuck with my head.”

His hands dropped to his sides. His heart was racing, and he felt strangely out of breath. Not just from the pain in his shoulder, or from the shouting. It felt as if he’d had to swim through something thick and clinging to say all that, something that kept trying to drag him down, force its way up his throat and take it all back.

“So from now on, that’s gonna be us,” he said, breathlessly. “Anyone who takes issue with that, this is your one chance to leave. We ain’t allied with the Remnants anymore. Fuck Despair.”

\-------------------

"Fuck Despair!" Chiaki excitedly repeated in the crowd, causing several men to look at her, including Mori and Suzuki wearing horrified expressions and Okomoto snickering at her as quietly as he could. She blushed slightly, mumbling an apology and having the decency to look chastised about her excitement and pride in Fuyuhiko getting the better of her. 

If Peko weren't so well trained, she'd be laughing at Chiaki's expense right now. At least Chiaki was getting better at knowing when she was out of line.

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko waited, silently, for what felt like an appropriate amount of time. No one left. He hadn’t really expected them to. To the men the whole thing probably felt too much like a test. He hadn’t exactly given them reason to think that he wouldn’t just gun them down if they defied him.

“Alright,” he said. “This stays fuckin’ quiet. We take the fight to the Remnants of Despair when we’re ready, we don’t invite them to our doorstep by letting this shit get out. I’ll give further instructions later; for now, we proceed like nothing’s changed. Meeting fuckin’ adjourned.”

He turned, opened the door, strode inside the house and slammed it behind him, leaving them to process that amongst themselves. Whatever their actual reaction was, now that it wouldn’t be to his face, Peko would keep tabs on it and let him know. He could hear the muffled susurrus of their conversation rising outside, getting gradually louder. Probably full of suspicion and panic, that the boss was toying with them. The last shreds of their respect for him fraying away, after he finally admitted his mistakes. Anger at him, for letting it go this far, for offering up nothing more concrete than a _speech_ to make amends, too little too late. A speech was just words, and his word meant nothing. Why the hell had he thought this would matter?

The foyer was empty. He leaned against the wall and then slid down it slowly, until he was sitting on the tile. “Dammit,” he muttered, and then a little louder, cradling his arm to his chest, “ _fuck_ my arm dammit shit _fuuuuuuuuck!_ ”

He buried his head in his knees, regretting all of his life decisions but especially the immediately recent ones that involved repeatedly waving his injured arm around.

\-------------------

Chiaki skooched through the front door, quietly shutting it behind her as she caught Fuyuhiko trying to compose himself. “Fuyuhiko? Are you okay?”

The sound that burst briefly through the door alongside her contained its fair share of suspicious, confused muttering, but also a loose spattering of applause.

\-------------------

With a wince Fuyuhiko stood up abruptly. “Yeah. Sure. ‘Course I am. _(Fuck!)_ Did you need something?”

\-------------------

Chiaki stared at him, not believing him at all but deciding to go with it because he was stressed, probably. She leaned against the wall next to him, her arms crossed behind her back, and casually kicked her feet a little. “Well, yeah. But first, I wanted to say that I’m proud of you!”

\-------------------

He’d expected her to say something like that, but Fuyuhiko still looked away from her, suddenly very interested in the other end of the hallway. “It takes next to nothing to earn your praise, doesn’t it,” he muttered. “Have some dignity, give that out when people actually deserve it.”

\-------------------

Chiaki pouted at that. “You _do_ deserve it! You’re working really hard already, and I know talking about it was something you were nervous about, but you did it anyway! And everybody out there needed to hear it, I think.”

\-------------------

“Did you tell them to clap when you came in?” Fuyuhiko asked her flatly.

\-------------------

It was Chiaki’s turn to avert her gaze. “Nooo….” There was a small moment of silence before she caved. “Okay, I asked a couple people to, but I’m still not wrong! Plus, isn’t the first part of an apology actually _saying_ you’re sorry? There’s no one big thing you can do to magically make everything better, otherwise you would have done that already. It’s just a bunch of little things, one at a time, right? This was one little thing.”

She stood up straight and pumped her fists excitedly. “So I’m proud of you, and welcome to the Fuck Despair faction!”

\-------------------

A soft snort of laughter from Fuyuhiko, who was still looking away. The entire clan doted on Chiaki relentlessly. At this point, it wouldn’t be surprising if they overthrew him and put _her_ in charge. “I can’t believe you screamed that,” he said. “Are we making T-shirts? I refuse to wear the T-shirt.”

\-------------------

Chiaki blinked and took a moment to think about that, tapping her chin in thought. A T-shirt? Kazuichi could wear it under his jumpsuit instead of his usual stinky tank top, and Chiaki _did_ like wearing T-shirts to bed… “We _could,_ but I don’t know how we’d make them in the apocalypse…” 

She then remembered that this was _not_ why she was here, and abruptly changed the subject. “Oh! Wait, that wasn’t all I wanted to talk about. Have you and Peko talked about uhm… our next Fuck Despair faction recruit yet?”

\-------------------

They had. “You’re moving on to the next Remnant,” Fuyuhiko said softly.

He supposed it made sense. Chiaki’s mission was to help her classmates who had fallen into Despair. She couldn’t stay with him forever. Now that he’d announced to her that he was quitting the Remnants, of course she’d want to move on. There was a melancholy feeling attached to that, but he did understand.

Fuyuhiko opened his mouth to suggest they take this to his office to talk privately, then remembered how things had gone for Chiaki the last time she’d been in his office. No, important conversations were happening in public hallways from now on. He supposed it didn’t matter who else heard them talking, now. He’d given the speech, there was no sense in hiding anything from the Kuzuryu Clan.

\-------------------

“Well, I'm not going to leave right away, but we should have a plan, I think.” At least, a better plan than _show up and button mash until you win._ Nagito was smarter than that. Everyone was. “We’re trying to figure out where to go next, and who to help out next. Kazuichi suggested we talk to Nekomaru, but he also told me a bunch of stuff about Nagito that makes me think helping him might be more urgent, probably. Everyone seems to think Nagito is super unstable which --” _Isn’t wrong._ "-- doesn’t really matter? Considering what he’s doing in Towa. I think.”

\-------------------

“You want my advice on it?” Fuyuhiko asked, his voice not betraying which side of this argument he was on.

\-------------------

Chiaki tensed and nodded, ready to defend her stance on things but hoping she wouldn’t have to. She was starting to realize that _no one_ really liked Nagito for some reason; heck, even Fuyuhiko had made jabs at him when Chiaki had first gotten here. And Kazuichi had a point, before -- if she got to avoid Teruteru for a while, it’d only be fair for everyone to get a choice in avoiding Nagito for a while, if they could. (No matter how mean it felt.)

“Do you think I -- I mean, we -- we should go after Nekomaru next?”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko pushed himself away from the wall and regarded her seriously, his arms crossed, his shoulder still aching dully. “Fuck no. Go after _Nagito._ Honestly? Aiming for Nagito next is _strategically brilliant._ ”

\-------------------

Chiaki, who had only ever been called _strategically brilliant_ while playing real time strategy games, stared at Fuyuhiko with wide eyes. “Really?”

\-------------------

“Well, you probably picked him at random, so I shouldn’t be giving you too much credit, but yeah. Really. Don’t listen to Kazuichi, Kazuichi’s not the plan guy. And Peko’s the muscle around here, it’s never been her job to strategize. It doesn’t matter if we LIKE Nagito. It doesn’t matter how important or high ranking he is in the organization, and it doesn’t matter how dangerous or destructive he is personally. It matters that he’s _load-bearing._ ”

\-------------------

Chiaki furrowed her brows, thinking about what Fuyuhiko was saying. “But… wouldn’t doing Nagito first be really dangerous? He’s got the robots and brainwashing stuff, right? I only wanted to go after him because Kazuichi said he was mass producing all of that, and stopping him from doing that is the right thing to do, I think.”

\-------------------

“Exactly,” said Fuyuhiko. “Your instincts are right. Picture for a second what would happen if the Remnants of Despair lost their grip on Towa. Imagine just how many of our incredibly destructive projects would go belly up immediately.” ( _Definitely some of mine,_ he thought guiltily, remembering how proudly he’d bragged to Peko about his plan to fix the Kuzuryu Clan’s discipline problems by brainwashing everyone. _Seriously, what the hell was wrong with me?_ )

“I doubt you’ve ever seen a Monokuma Unit,” he went on quickly. “They’re big and clumsy and stupid and I’ve got enough manpower that I don’t have to rely on them in my territory. But for some of the other Remnants, those robots are the only army they’ve got. You wanna get close to Nekomaru, you’re going through a bunch of Monokuma Units. Everybody treats the things like they’re disposable because they break easy and Nagito will just replace them for us _ad nauseum,_ so take him out and it’ll be farewell robot armies within a month.”

\-------------------

“Oh!” Chiaki said. This was _exactly_ like a real time strategy game, then! Who knew that kind of strategy could be applied to real life? “That makes sense! Then, we can get Nekomaru and anyone else using the Monokuma Units because they’ll be weakened, and then go after the more powerful people in our class because we’ll have the numbers to back us up! It’ll be like isolating the enemy from their resources and building up our units in Command and Conquer! Right?”

\-------------------

Fuyuhiko continued to gaze at her flatly. “You are… actually vibrating with excitement right now,” he observed. “I always thought that was a figure of speech.”

\-------------------

Chiaki paused mid-wiggle, not realizing she’d started moving subconsciously until Fuyuhiko had pointed it out. She blushed and straightened her posture, a little embarrassed at being so excited about something that was supposed to be serious. “Sorry. I really like Command and Conquer. Classic RTS. You should play it with me some time, you’d be really good at it, I think.”

There was something super nice about talking to a Fuyuhiko who acted like _Fuyuhiko_ again. Being able to invite him over to play games was just like being back in high school. It was like, in winning over Fuyuhiko, she’d also won back a little piece of normalcy.

\-------------------

“If it’s a strategy game, I’d wipe the floor with you,” Fuyuhiko answered casually, absolutely not believing it but feeling like some competitive banter was probably called for. “Listen, we don’t have a hard deadline for this; we’ve got time to plan. Give me a day or two to gather intel on the situation with Nagito, and we’ll get together for a strategy meeting. I wanna help you out; I owe you that.”

\-------------------

It overwhelmed Chiaki all over again just how _alone_ she’d been when she first started all this, and how _not alone_ she was now. Her odds used to be so impossible, and now they seemed so… okay, still really hard, actually, but definitely _better._ Like it had all gone from a fantasy to something tangible and reachable.

Tears started welling up in her eyes again, and she flung herself at Fuyuhiko and hugged him tightly. “Thank you!”

\-------------------

“Shit! Wait! Chiaki! Chiaki, you’re crushing my shoulder! _Chiaki!!_ ”


End file.
